UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


• 


YA'A 


SELF-MADE    MEN. 


BY 


CHAS.  C.  B.  SEYMOUR 


NEW    YORK: 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN     SQUARE. 

1868. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  one  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  fifty-eight,  by 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of 
New  York. 


1 


PREFACE, 


Lsr  this  volume  will  be  found  the  lives  of  more  than  sixty 

distinguished  persons  who  have  attained  eminence  in  spite 

5  of  adverse  circumstances  of  birth  and  fortune.     They  are 

<2  presented  in  the  usual  biographical  form,  and  with  as  much 

f;]  fullness  as  the  object  in  view  and  the  space  at  command 

would  permit. 

It  has  not  been  deemed  necessary  to  append  to  each  sketch 

a  little  sermon  to  point  out  its  moral  tendencies.     The  real 

moral  of  a  man's  life  is  found  in  his  actions.     These  have 

been  related  faithfully,  and  they  will,  it  is  believed,  convey 

^  their  lesson  without  any  laborious  essay  on  the  part  of  the 

u  writer. 

CO 

J  For  the  omissions  that  occur,  the  writer  has  only  to  say 
that  the  extent  and  variety  of  material  which  every  where 

2  rewarded  his  search  rendered  the  task  of  selection  an  embar- 
rassing one.  The  sixty  biographies  that  are  given  have 
their  value,  and  those  that  are  omitted  have  theirs  also.  A 
book,  unfortunately,  will  but  contain  a  certain  quantity,  and 
that  quantity  is  here  supplied. 

New  York,  March,  1858. 


338881 


CONTENTS, 


GENERAL  ANDREW  JACKSON 9 

JACOB  LEISLER 23 

DANIEL  WEBSTER 30 

ELIHU  BURRITT 40 

DR.  ALEXANDER  MURRAY , 45 

LIEUT.  MATTHEW  F.  MAURY 51 

CHRISTIAN  GOTTLOB  HEYNE 59 

ROBERT  BURNS 64 

GEORGE  FOX 71 

AMOS  LAWRENCE 76 

HAlfe  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN 84 

ANTHONY  WAYNE 94 

EMMANUEL  KANT 101 

JOHANN  GOTTLIEB  FICHTE 106 

DAVID  RITTENHOUSE 114 

CARSTEN  NIEBUHR 121 

HENRY  CLAY 130 

JOHN  LEDYARD 138 

STEPHEN  GIRARD 165 

SIR  WILLIAM  PHIPS 181 

DANIEL  BOONE 191 

JOSEPH  BRAMAH 209 

JAMES  HARGREAVES 212 

ALEXANDER  WILSON 215 

EDMUND  CARTWRIGHT 234 

COUNT  RUMFORD 238 

THOMAS  POSEY 253 

ISRAEL  PUTNAM 258 

JOHN  PRIDEAUX 270 

ROGER  WILLIAMS 275 

WILLIAM  HUTTON 289 

JOHN  PAUL  JONES 303 

WILLIAM  FALCONER 310 

SIR  HUMPHREY  DAVY 314 

ROBERT  DODSLEY 320 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

ANTONIO  CANOVA 323 

PHILIP  VAYRINGE 330 

NATHANIEL  BOWDITCH i 336 

VALENTINE  JAMERAI  DUVAL 343 

CHAKLES  DICKENS : 353 

SIR  THOMAS  LAWRENCE 368 

WILLIAM  GIFFORD 374 

BENJAMIN  WEST 382 

JOHN  FITCH 394 

PATRICK  HENRY 401 

ELI  WHITNEY 420 

BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN 428 

OLIVER  EVANS 449 

ROGER  SHERMAN 454 

ROBERT  FULTON v 460 

SIR  WILLIAM  JONES ; 469 

CAPT.  JOHN  SMITH 479 

JAMES  BRINDLEY 496 

THOMAS  HOLCROFT 500 

ROBERT  BLOOMFIELD 507 

SIR  RICHARD  ARKWRIGHT «512 

HENRY  KIRKE  WHITE 520 

JAMES  WATT^,, 531 

WILLIAM  COBBETT 538 

AMOS  WHITTBMORE 553 

CAPT.  JAMES  COOK 557 

GEORGE  STEPHENSON 575 


SELF-MADE    MEN. 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 

ANDREW  JACKSON  was  descended  from  a  Scotch  family  which 
emigrated  to  the  North  of  Ireland  at  a  very  early  period.  The 
troubled  state  of  that  country  induced  Andrew's  father  to  seek  a 
new  home  in  the  land  of  promise,  America.  In  1765  he  arrived 
at  the  port  of  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  bringing  with  him  a 
wife  and  two  sons,  Hugh  and  Robert.  He  settled  on  a  tract  of 
land  then  called  "  Waxhaw  Settlement,"  near  the  boundary-lino 
of  North  Carolina.  Here,  two  years  subsequently,  the  subject  of 
this  memoir  was  born  (15th  March,  1767). 

Soon  after  the  birth  of  Andrew,  his  father  died,  leaving  him 
and  his  two  brothers  to  the  sole  care  and  guardianship  of  Mrs. 
Jackson,  an  excellent  woman,  famed  for  her  heroic  resolution, 

A2 


10  SELF-MADE  MEN.      . 

and.  admirable  qualities  of  head  and  heart.  In  early  life  she  had 
witnessed  the  tyranny  of  British  rule  in  Ireland,  and  the  still 
more  tyrannous  exactions  of  the  Irish  nobility.  These  reminis- 
cences she  recounted  to  her  sons,  and  their  influence  was  observ- 
able in  after-life  in  a  sturdy  opposition  to  tyranny  and  exaction. 

The  education  which  the  lads  received  was  necessarily  of  a 
limited  character.  The  two  eldest  were  simply  taught  the  rudi- 
ments of  the  English  language,  but  Andrew,  being  intended  for 
the  ministry,  enjoyed  some  additional  advantages.  He  was  sent 
to  a  flourishing  academy  at  the  Waxhaw  Meeting-house,  where 
he  studied  the  classics  and  the  higher  branches  of  a  superior  ed- 
ucation, until  the  Revolutionary  War  had  extended  itself  to  the 
immediate  vicinity.  South  Carolina  was  invaded  by  the  British 
in  1779,  and  in  the  following  year  it  became  necessary  for  the 
neighborhood  in  which  Jackson  resided  to  declare  itself  for  or 
against  the  enemy.  The  struggles  of  the  patriot  army  during 
five  long  years  of  trial  were  perfectly  familiar  to  Andrew  and  his 
little  home  circle,  and  the  spirit  of  resistance  was  strong  within 
them.  On  the  29th  of  May,  1780,  an  engagement  took  place  at 
Waxhaw  Settlement  between  the  British  and  American  forces, 
in  which  the  latter  were  defeated,  suffering  a  loss  in  killed  and 
wounded  of  nearly  three  hundred  men. 

It  became  necessary  to  retire  before  the  invading  army  into 
North  Carolina.  Mrs.  Jackson,  with  her  two  remaining  sons 
(she  had  lost  one  at  the  battle  of  Stono,  from  the  excessive  beat 
of  the  weather),  abandoned  the  homestead  for  a  short  time,  but 
returned  in  time  to  allow  the  boys  to  take  part  in  the  battle  of 
Hanging  Eock  (Gth  of  August,  1780),  where  the  corps  to  which 
they  were  attached  greatly  distinguished  itself.  They  were  again 
compelled  to  retire  to  North  Carolina,  but  returned  in  a  few 
months,  when  it  was  known  that  Lord  Cornwallis  had'  crossed 
the  Yadkin. 

It  was  during  the  trying  scenes  of  this  period  that  Andrew 
Jackson  gave  the  first  illustration  of  that  quickness  of  thought 
and  instant  decision  which  afterward  placed  him  in  the  front  rank 
of  military  commanders.  A  captain  of  the  American  forces  named 
Sands,  who  had  been  absent  from  home  for  some  time,  desired  to 
spend  a  night  with  his  family.  Robert  and  Andrew  Jackson,  with 
seven  others,  consented  to  act  as  his  body-guard.  They  numbered 
seven  muskets,  and,  wh«n  night  came  on,  lay  down  to  sleep  with 


ANDREW  JACKSON.  11 

their  weapons  handy  in  case  of  need.  The  precaution  was  well 
taken.  During  the  night  the  Tories  made  their  appearance.  The 
moment  the  alarm  was  given,  Andrew  ran  out  of  the  house,  and, 
putting  his  gun  through  the  fork  of  an  apple-tree,  hailed  the  ad- 
vancing column.  No  answer  was  given,  and  Jackson  fired.  A 
volley  was  the  return,  which  killed  Andrew's  companion.  It 
now  became  apparent  that  the  Tories  had  divided  their  party  into 
two  sections,  so  as  to  attack  the  building  at  either  end.  Young 
Andrew  returned  to  the  house,  and,  with  two  others,  commenced 
a  fire  from  the  door.  In  the  mean  time  flie  enemy's  second  divis- 
ion came  up,  and,  mistaking  the  firing  in  front,  actually  commenced 
fighting  with  its  own  men.  They  kept  up  the  fire  upon  each  other, 
as  well  as  upon  the  house,,  until,  startled  by  the  sound  of  a  cavalry 
bugle  in  the  distance,  they  beat  a  hasty  retreat.  The  charge  sound- 
ed on  the  bugle  was  nothing  but  an  ingenious  ruse  of  a  Major  Isbel. 
He  had  not  a  single  man  with  him ;  but,  knowing  that  stratagem 
often  accomplishes  more  than  actual  force,  he  blew  the  blast,  and 
trusted  to  fortune.  But  for  the  decision  of  Jackson  in  firing  the 
first  shot,  every  man  of  the  little  party  would  have  been  captured. 
The  patriots  were  not  so  fortunate  at  a  subsequent  rencounter 
which  took  place  at  Waxhaw  Meeting-house.  It  was  with  the 
greatest  difficulty  that  a  portion  of  their  number,  including  An- 
drew and  his  brother,  obtained  safety  by  flight.  The  two  broth- 
ers remained  together  until  the  following  morning.  Pressed  by 
hunger,  they  ventured  from  the  woods,  and  fell  into  the  harids 
of  the  enemy  before  they  were  well  aware  of  their  presence.  To 
escape  was  impossible,  and  both  were  made  prisoners.  Being 
placed  under  guard,  Andrew  was  ordered  in  a  very  imperious 
tone  by  a  British  officer  to  clean  his  boots,  which  had  become 
muddied.  This  order  he  positively  and  peremptorily  refused  to 
obey,  alleging  that  he  was  entitled  to  the  treatment  of  a  prisoner 
of  war,  and  not  that  of  a  menial.  Incensed  at  this  refusal,  the 
British  officer  aimed  a  blow  at  his  head  with  a  drawn  sword. 
Throwing  up  his  arm,  he  sheltered  himself  from  what  would  have 
probably  proved  a  fatal  wound,  but  in  doing  so  was  badly  cut. 
The  mark  of  this  cowardly  assault  Andrew  Jackson  bore  with 
him  to  the  grave.  'Turning  to  Robert  Jackson,  the  British  bully 
repeated  his  order,  arid  received  a  reply  similar  to  that  made  by 
Andrew.  Additionally  furious  at  being  foiled  twice,  he  struck 
Robert  on  the  head,  and  inflicted  an  injury  from  which  the  poor 


12  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

young  fellow  never  recovered.  The  prisoners  were  then  taken 
to  jail,  and  confined  in  separate  cells.  They  were  treated  with 
great  harshness  until  after  the  battle  of  Camden,  when,  owing  to 
an  exchange  of  prisoners  (brought  about  in  a  great  measure  by  the 
exertions  of  Mrs.  Jackson),  they  were  set  at  liberty.  Robert  died 
a  few  days  after  his  release  from  the  eifects  of  his  wound.  Bowed 
down  by  affliction  and  an  overwrought  mind,  Mrs.  Jackson  was 
taken  sick,  and  in  a  few  days  lay  beside  the  two  sons  she  had 
already  consecrated  to  the  cause  of  liberty.  '-.  * 

Notwithstanding  the*hopeful  buoyancy  of  youth,  it  was  some- 
time before  Andrew  recovered  from  the  severe  shock  of  these 
calamities.  He  sought  forgetfulness  in  the  easy  pleasures  of  the 
neighboring  town,  mixed  with  the  gay  and  frivolous,  and  for  a 
time  seemed  to  imbibe  their  tastes  and  fancies  with  satisfaction. 
He  accompanied  some  of  his  new-found  companions  to  Charleston, 
and  soon  dissipated  the  small  patrimony  which  was  his  all.  He 
found  himself  at  last  with  nothing  left  but  a  fine  horse.  Even 
this  he  staked  against  a  sum  of  money  in  a  game  called  "  rattle 
and  snap."  Jackson  won  the  game,  recovered  possession  of  his 
horse  and  his  senses,  bade  adieu  to  a  life  of  foolish  dissipation, 
and  returned  home. 

It  was  now  his  determination  to  become  a  lawyer  (1784),  and, 
devoting  himself  with  assiduity  to  this  object,  he  obtained  a  license 
to  practice  in  the  winter  of  1786.  He  continued  in  the  State  of 
North  Carolina  until  the  spring  of  1788,  following  his  profession, 
with  only  moderate  patronage.  He  was  now  twenty-one,  and 
eager  to  find  a  field  for  the  liberal  exercise  of  his  talents.  The 
western  district  of  the  state  was  spoken  of  as  presenting  flat- 
tering prospects  to  adventurers,  and,  at  the  solicitation  of  Judge 
M'Nairy,  who  was  going  out  to  hold  the  first  Supreme  Court  that 
had  ever  sat  in  that  section  of  the  •  country,  Andrew  Jackson 
determined  to  accompany  him.  In  the  month  of  October,  1789, 
they  reached  Nashville,  Jackson  bearing  with  him  an  appoint- 
ment from  the  governor  to  act  as  solicitor  for  the  western  district 
of  the  state,  embracing  the  present  State  of  Tennessee. 

The  condition  in  which  he  found  things  at  Nashville  was  extra- 
ordinary, and  in  the  highest  degree  promising  to  a  young  lawyer. 
Most  of  the  young  men  of  the  place  were  in  debt  to  the  merchants, 
who  were  unable  to  help  themselves  for  the  simple  reason  that 
there  was  but  one  lawyer  in  the  country,  and  he  had  been  judi- 


ANDREW  JACKSON.  13 

ciously  retained  by  the  scapegraces.  The  merchants  were  conse- 
quently unable  to  recover  their  debts,  or  to  bring  actions  for  the 
purpose  of  doing  so.  The  arrival  of  Jackson  was  most  opportune. 
He  commenced  business  the  following  morning  by  issuing  no  fewer 
than  seventy  writs.  The  consternation  which  this  decided  action 
threw  into  the  camp  of  the  enemy  was  prodigious.  The  first 
feeling  was  one  of  common  safety.  Jackson  must  be  got  rid  of. 
He  must  be  bullied  or  browbeaten  out  the  town.  The  experi- 
ment was  made,  but  it  was  a  miserable  failure.  The  youngsters 
found  that  they  had  a  man  of  iron  to  deal  with,  and  that  it  would 
be  better  for  their  own  safety  to  leave  him  alone;  and  they  did  so. 
They  learned  this  lesson  from  two  incidents  which  occurred.  A 
flax-breaker  of  considerable  strength  and  courage  set  upon  Jack- 
son without  any  pretense  of  provocation.  Jackson  reduced  him 
to  submission  with  his  own  winding  blades.  His  next  encounter 
was  at  a  court  in  Sumner  County.  While  he  was  conversing  with 
a  gentleman  a  noted  bully  approa'ched,  and,  without  saying  a  word, 
placed  his  heels  on  Jackson's  feet.  Pushing  him  off,  Jackson 
seized  a  slab  which  happened  to  be  handy,  and,  with  a  forward 
thrust  upon  the  breast,  brought  him  to  the  ground.  The  interfer- 
ence of  the  crowd  put  an  end  to  the  conflict ;  but  the  baffled  bully, 
snatching  a  stake  from  the  fence,  again  approached  with  dreadful 
imprecations.  At  the  earnest  entreaty  of  Jackson,  the  crowd  re- 
tired from  between  them.  Poising  his  slab,  he  then  advanced,  with 
a  firm  step  and  steady*eye,  upon  his  antagonist,  who  dropped  his 
stake  at  his  approach,  scaled  the  fence,  and  ran  into  the  woods. 

During  his  sojourn  at  Nashville  he  became  acquainted  with 
and  married  Mrs.  Robards.  The  circumstances  of  this  marriage 
were  extremely  curious.  Jackson  boarded  in  the  same  house  with 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robards,  a  couple  that  lived  unhappily  together, 
and  had  only  recently  been  reconciled.  Mr.  Robards  became 
jealous  of  Jackson,  and  went  away  to  Virginia,  where  he  quietly 
obtained  a  divorce.  Unconscious  of  this  fact,  Mrs.  Robards  fol- 
lowed, in  company  with  Colonel  Stark  and  Jackson,  the  latter  act- 
ing as  pilot  through  the  Indian  country.  On  arriving  at  Natchez 
they  learned  what  steps  had  been  taken.  Jackson  was  naturally 
indignant,  and  immediately  went  to  expostulate  with  the  blind 
and  jealous  husband.  No  good  came  of  it.  The  divorce  was 
granted,  and  Mrs.  Robards  was  a  free  woman.  Acting  on  the 
quick  impulses  of  a  generous  mind,  Jackson  hastened  to  offer  his 


14  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

hand  and  his  heart  to  the  innocent  and  amiable  woman  who  had 
been  sacrificed  without  a  shadow  of  pretext.  It  was  a  manly 
step,  and  showed  to  the  world  that  he,  at  least,  thought  her  inno- 
cent. From  reasons  of  discretion  as  well  as  of  delicacy,  the  offer 
was  at  first  declined,  but  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  months  the 
wedding  took  place.  Jackson  soon  became  devotedly  attached 
to  his  wife,  and  after  her  decease  cherished  her  memory  with  an 
almost  holy  reverence. 

On  the  formation  of  the  State  Government  of  Tennessee  in 
1796,  Andrew  Jackson  was  appointed  one  of  the  members  of  the 
Convention  to  frame  a  State  Constitution.  The  same  year  he  was 
elected  to  represent  Tennessee  in  the  House  of  Representatives  in 
Congress.  The  following  year  he  was  chosen  senator  in  Con- 
gress, and  took  his  seat  on  the  22d  of  November,  1797.  Business 
at  home  compelled  him  to  resign  his  seat  before  the  next  session. 
On  returning  to  Tennessee,  he  was  surprised  to  find  that  the  Leg- 
islature had  quite  unexpectedly  conferred  on  him  the  appoint- 
ment of  Judge  of  the  Supreme  Court.  He  entered  on  the  duties 
of  this  office  with  some  reluctance,  but  the  firmness,  justice,  and 
courage  he  displayed  were  soon  the  themes  of  general  admiration. 
These  characteristics,  however,  were  not  always  acceptable,  espe- 
cially to  those  who  had  held  the  law  in  their  own  hands.  Jack- 
son had  plenty  of  enemies  of  this  sort. 

On  the  admission  of  Tennessee  into  the  Union  it  comprised 
one  military  division.  The  death  of  ;.I«ijnr  General  Conway, 
which  occurred  about  this  time,  created  a  vacancy  in  the  office, 
which  was  filled  by  the  election  of  Jackson.  In  1804  he  resigned 
the  judgeship,  and  confined  his  attention  exclusively  to  his  own 
affairs  and  this  commission.  Accordingly,  he  purchased  an  ex- 
cellent farm  ten  miles  from  Nashville,  on  the  Columbia  River, 
where  for  several  years  he  devoted  himself  to  agricultural  pur- 
suits and  the  agreeable  duties  of  a  social  and  hospitable  home. 

In  this  comparative  retirement  General  Jackson  remained,  with 
few  exceptions,  until  the  declaration  of  war  with  Great  Britain  in 
June,  1812.  Without  seeking  a  command  in  the  regular  army, 
he  issued  a  special  address  to  the  citizens  of  his  division,  calling 
upon  them  to  unite  with  him  in  protecting  the  rights  and  the 
honor  of  the  republic.  Twenty-five  hundred  volunteers  flocked 
to  his  banner  in  a  few  <Jays,  ready  to  follow  him  in  any  direction 
and  on  any  expedition  against  the  enemy.  In  November,  1812, 


ANDREW  JACKSON.  15 

« 

he  placed  himself  at  their  head,  and  in  the  following  month  found 
a  rendezvous  at  Nashville.  The  general's  ardor  inspired  the  men" 
with  the  greatest  ^devotion ;  and  their  cheerful  spirits  were  proof 
against  privation  and  hardship.  At  the  opening  of  the  new  year 
(1813)  Jackson  and  his  companions  descended  to  Natchez,  where 
they  were  to  remain  until  they  received  further  orders.  He  se- 
lected the  most  healthful  spot  he  could  find  for  his  encampment, 
and  devoted  all  his  attention  to  the  training  of  his  volunteers, 
many  of  whom  were,  of  course,  quite  green.  The  speck  of  war, 
however,  disappeared  for  a  time,  and  an  order  ^as  received  from 
the  Secretary  of  War  directing  the  disbanding  of  the  volunteers 
and  the  delivering  up  of  the  property  of  the  corps  to  General  Wil- 
kinson. When  this  order  reached  the  camp  there  were  one  hund- 
red and  fifty  on  the  sick-list,  fifty-six  of  whom  were  completely 
prostrated,  and  the  remainder  so  feeble  and  destitute  that  they 
were  entirely  unable  to  reach  their  homes,  or  defray  the  expenses 
of  the  journey,  even  if  it  could  be  undertaken.  If  the  order  had 
been  complied  with,  numbers  would  have  perished,  and  others  of 
necessity  been  compelled  to  enter  the  regular  army  under  General 
Wilkinson. 

Jackson  felt  himself  compromised  by  this  order.  His  men 
were  volunteers,  not  recruits.  They  had  left  their  homes  for  the 
sake  of  their  country,  and  it  was  but  fair  that  when  the  danger 
which  had  brought  them  out  was  at  an  end,  the  nation  should 
enable  them  to  return  to  their  homes  to  enjoy  the  peaceful  result. 
At  present,  it  looked  very  much  like  a  trick  to  fill  the  ranks  of 
the  regular  army.  Under  these  convictions,  Jackson  determined 
to  disobey  the  orders  of  the  secretary. 

The  officers  seemed  to  be  satisfied  with  his  determination,  but 
were,  in  reality,  alarmed  at  its  consequences.  After  holding  a  se- 
cret meeting  among  themselves,  they  presented  a  recommendation 
to  the  general  to  adhere  to  the  secretary's  instructions.  Disgust- 
ed at  their  pusillanimity,  the  general  replied  that  it  was  the  men 
he  thought  of,  and  not  the  officers,  who  had  means  at  their  dispo- 
sal, and  could  go  whither  they  pleased.  He  concluded  by  telling 
them  that,  as  his  resolution  was  not  hastily  formed,  so  it  would 
not  be  easily  changed.  During  these  negotiations  the  officers  of 
General  Wilkinson  arrived  in  the  camp,  with  the  object  of  re- 
cruiting •  from  the  volunteer  army.  So  soon  as  Jackson  was  ap- 
prised of  this,  he  gave  orders  that  any  officer  found  recruiting 


16  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

^ 

from  among  his  troops,  that  were  already  in  the  service  of  the 
United  States,  should  be  arrested  and  confined.  All  sorts  of 
mean  stratagems  were  now  resorted  to  to  frustrate  Jackson's  pur- 
pose, but  his  iron  will  and  indomitable  energy  overcame  every  ob- 
stacle, and  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  marching  the  whole  of  his 
division  to  the  section  of  country  whence  they  had  been  drawn. 
He  then  dismissed  them,  and  awaited  the  consequences  of  his  bold 
action.  It  is  almost  unnecessary  to  add  that  when  the  matter 
was  presented  in  its  proper  light  to  the  President,  he  entirely  ap- 
proved the  course  adopted  by  the  general. 

The  repose  of  General  Jackson  and  his  volunteers  was  of  short 
duration.  They  had  scarcely  reached  their  homes  when  the  In- 
dian nations  scattered  over  the  territory  comprising  the  States  of 
Alabama  and  Mississippi  made  incursions  into  Tennessee  and 
Kentucky,  and  committed  the  most  savage  murders  and  cruelties. 
The  Creek  Indians,  residing  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Coosa  and  Tal- 
lapoosa  Rivers,  were  the  most  implacable  and  hostile.  On  the 
30th  of  August,  1813,  these  dusky  rascals  made  a  successful  at- 
tack on  Fort  Minims.  A  most  dreadful  slaughter  took  place. 
Mercy  was  shown  to  none.  Men,  women,  and  children  fell  be- 
neath the  fatal  tomahawk  and  scalping-knife.  The  fort  was  oc- 
cupied by  Major  Beasley,  with  a  force  of  one  hundred  and  fifty 
men,  and  a  large  number  of  women  and  children  who  had  sought 
shelter  and  protection.  Of  this  number  seventeen  only  made 
their  escape ;  the  rest  were  mercilessly  massacred. 

The  atrocity  of  this  outrage  was  in  some  respects  advantage- 
ous. It  roused  the  people,  and  gave  them  a  timely  insight  into 
the  danger  which  lay  at  their  very  doors.  It  nerved  them  for 
one  great  retaliatory  effort,  and  paved  the  way  for  a  subsequent 
peace.  The  war  was  entered  into  with  enthusiasm.  It  was 
prosecuted  in  the  face  of  great  difficulties,  hardships,  and  reverses, 
but  it  was  triumphant.  The  qualities  displayed  by  General  Jack- 
son in  this  hazardous,  energetic,  and  remarkable  campaign  proved 
beyond  doubt  that  he  possessed  military  gifts  of  the  highest  order, 
and  in  a  well-balanced  combination  rarely  found  save  in  the  great- 
est heroes  of  the  world.  The  difficulties  he  had  to  encounter 
were  of  the  most  disheartening  kind ;  discontents  were  everlast- 
ingly rising  up  in  his  army ;  the  Governor  of  Tennessee  recom- 
mended him  to  abandon  his  enterprise ;  a  general  deserted  him 
with  his  entire  brigade ;  opposition  after  opposition  he  encounter- 


ANDREW  JACKSON.  17 

ed  from  different  officers,  yet  he  proceeded  to  assault  the  blood- 
thirsty enemy  in  spite  of  every  impediment.  In  this  campaign 
he  had  to  imprison  officers,  to  hang  a  militia  soldier,  and  to  do 
other  things  which,  from  their  daring,  almost  require  credulity  un- 
bounded to  believe  to  be  true.  Finally,  however,  he  succeeded, 
subdued  the  savage  tribes,  and  scattered  them  before  him  like 
chalf  in  the  wind.  They  were  glad  to  sue  for  peace,  and  to  enter 
into  a  treaty  securing  it  to  them.  The  warriors  returned  to  their 
homes  in  the  early  part  of  1814. 

In  the  spring  of  the  same  year  Jackson  received  the  appoint- 
ment of  major  general  in  the  service  of  the  United  States.  The 
protection  of  the  coast  near  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi  was  in- 
trusted to  him.  In  pursuing  the  duties  of  this  appointment,  Gen- 
eral Jackson  became  convinced  that  the  Indians  received  assist- 
ance from  the  Spanish  authorities  at  Pensacola,  and  from  the 
British.  He  was  persuaded,  also,  that  it  was  the  intention  of  the 
latter  to  make  a  descent  on  New  Orleans  so  soon  as  they  had 
perfected  their  arrangements  at  Pensacola.  The  general  endeav- 
.ored  to  treat  with  the  Spanish  authorities,  and  to  point  out  to 
them  the  impropriety  of  the  course  they  were  pursuing ;  but  the 
Spanish  authorities  prevaricated,  falsified,  and  even  flatly  denied 
the  truth  of  what  was  charged  against  them.  Jackson  dispatched 
Captain  Gordon  to  see  what  was  passing  in  the  month  of  August 
(1814),  and  ascertained  that  from  fifty  to  two  hundred  British 
officers  and  soldiers  were  in  the  garrison,  with  a  park  of  artillery, 
and  about  five  hundred  savages  under  drill.  A  proclamation 
dated  from  "  Head-quarters  at  Pensacola,"  and  signed  by  Colonel 
Nicholls,  of  the  British  expedition,  placed  the  matter  beyond  doubt. 

General  Jackson  was  never  remarkable  for  being  caught  asleep, 
and  he  was  determined  not  to  be  somnolent  on  this  occasion.  He 
resolved  at  once  to  march  against  Pensacola,  and  break  up  that 
rendezvous.  On  the  6th  of  November,  1814,  he  carried  out  this 
intention,  demolished  the  Spanish  defenses  and  protections,  and 
drove  out  what  remained  of  the  English,  Spaniards,  and  savages. 
He  then  made  the  best  of  his  way  to  New  Orleans,  whither  the 
English  expedition  had  already  departed.  His  repulse  of  the  Brit- 
ish on  that  occasion  is  one  of  the  most  brilliant  achievements  re- 
corded in  American  history,  and  is  familiar  to  every  schoolboy.  It 
is  unnecessary  to  repeat  a  story  so  perfectly  well  known.  General 
Jacksoif  covered  himself  and  his  country  with  imperishable  fame. 


18  SELF  MADE  MEN. 

Peace  having  been  declared  at  Ghent,  the  remainder  of  the 
British  forces  sailed  away,  after  making  a  stay  of  about  ten  days 
in  Jackson's  vicinity. 

Though  honored  and  respected  by  the  greater  part  of  the  citi- 
zens of  New  Orleans,  General  Jackson  was  not  without  his  oppo- 
nents, who  saw  in  some  of  his  actions  the  worst  features  of  des- 
potism. The  decision  which  he  was  so  fond  of  exercising,  and 
which  was  perhaps  necessary  to  a  certain  extent,  was  undoubted- 
ly calculated,  in  its  exaggerated  form,  to  produce  the  worst  appre- 
hensions in  the  minds  of  the  timid  and  moderate.  The  general's 
enemies  made  the  most  of  this  circumstance. .  Before  the  depart- 
ure of  the  British,  an  anonymous  article  appeared  in  one  of  the 
newspapers,  commenting  on  the  state  of  things.  Jackson  forced 
the  editor  of  the  paper  to  divulge  the  name  of  the  writer,  who 
turned  out  to  be  a  member  of  the  State  Legislature.  He  was 
flung  into  prison.  Application  was  made  to  one  of  the  judges  for 
a  writ  of  habeas  corpus,  which  was  immediately  granted  and  issued. 
Jackson  then  imprisoned  the  judge  for  issuing  the  writ,  and  the 
lawyer  for  drawing  it  out.  These  proceedings  were  undoubtedly, 
despotic  and  tyrannous,  but  we  must  remember  that  at  the  time 
they  occurred  the  city  was  under  the  edict  of  martial  law.  When 
military  rule  was  at  an  end,  Jackson  had  to  answer  for  his  inter- 
ference with  the  civil  courts.  He  did  not  attempt  to  defend  him- 
self, but  paid  the  penalty  imposed  (a  fine  of  one  thousand  dollars), 
with  the  consciousness  that  he  had  done  his  duty  thoroughly,  if  a 
little  sternly. 

In  the  month  of  March  General  Jackson  returned  once  more 
to  his  home  in  Tennessee,  carrying  with  him  a  larger  amount  of 
popularity,  than  had  ever  been  borne  by  any  man  except  Wash- 
ington. For  two  years  he  remained  on  his  farm,  prepared  for 
service,  if  need  be,  but  occupied  with  rural  pleasures  and  labors. 
In  1817  fresh  difficulties  were  experienced  from  the  Indians,  and 
General  Jackson  received  orders  to  repair  to  Fort  Scott,  and  take 
the  command  of  the  forces  in  that  quarter,  with  authority,  in  case 
he  should  deem  it  necessary,  to  call  upon  the  executives  of  the  ad- 
joining states  for  additional  troops.  \  They  also  authorized  him  to 
cross  the  Florida  line,  if  necessary  to  the  execution  of  his  orders. 
Florida  was  then  a  Spanish  possession.  The  power  vested  in 
Jackson  shows  the  confidence  in  which  he  was  held  by  the  gov- 
ernment. 


ANDREW  JACK8ON.  19 

The  campaign  against  the  Seminoles  was  prosecuted  with  great 
vigor,  and  without  any  special  delicacy  Concerning  Spanish  rights, 
or  squeamishness  about  hanging  and  shooting  British  prisoners. 
It  was  brought  to  a  successful  termination,  but  did  not  contribute 
to  the  general's  permanent  fame. 

In  June,  1818,  Jackson  was  once  more  at  the  Hermitage,  but, 
as  his  conduct  in  the  Seminole  war  was  arraigned  by  the  House 
of  Representatives  and  by  the  press,  he  determined  on  visiting 
Washington  for  the  purpose  of  defending  himself.  He  made  a 
kind  of  triumphal  journey,  receiving  honors  in  every  city  through 
which  he  passed.  No  man  could  be  more  popular  with  the  masses 
than  the  gallant  defender  of  New  Orleans.  If  he  had  been  a  little 
harshy  and  a  trifle  unmindful  of  the  law  of  nations,  people  were 
disposed  to  be  lenient  with  a  man  whose  integrity  and  sincere 
patriotism  were  beyond  the  breath  of  suspicion.  It  is  almost  un- 
necessary to  add  that  he  succeeded  in  clearing  himself  before  the 
country. 

When  the  Floridas  were  ceded  by  Spain  to  America,  the  Presi- 
dent appointed  General  Jackson  to  act  in  the  first  place  as  com- 
missioner for  receiving  the  provinces,  and  then  to  assume  the 
government  of  them.  It  was  intended  and  expressed  that  the 
American  governor  should  exercise  all  the  functions  belonging 
to  the  Spanish  governors,  captain-general,  and  intendants,  until 
Congress  should  provide  a  deliberate  system  of  administration,  as 
in  the  instances  of  the  other  territories. 

On  the  1st  of  July,  1821,  General  Jackson  entered  upon  his 
delicate  office,  and  at  once  published  a  declaration  announcing 
that  the  authority  of  the  United  States  thereafter  existed  in  the 
Territory.  He  had  some  difficulties  to  encounter  with  the  Span- 
ish governors,  who  did  not  cheerfully  surrender  the  records  and 
state  papers  in  their  possession.  Jackson  had  to  resort  to  arbi- 
trary measures,  and  did  so  with  success,  but  not  without  again 
provoking  bitter  complaints  at  Washington. 

On  the  7th  of  October  Jackson  delegated  his  power  to  two 
gentlemen,  his  secretaries,  and  returned  to  Nashville.  The  con- 
dition of  his  health  was  one  of  the  reasons  which  induced  him  to 
take  this  step.  On  the  4th  of  July,  1822,  the  Governor  of  Ten- 
nessee, acting  for  the  Legislature,  presented  him  with  a  sword, 
as  a  testimonial  "of  the  high  respect"  entertained  by  the  state 
for  his  public  services ;  and  on  the  20th  of  August  of  the  same 


20  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

year,  the  members  of  the  General  Assembly  of  Tennessee  recom- 
mended him  to  the  Union  for  the  office  of  President,  a  recom- 
mendation which  was  repeated  by  the  Legislature  of  Alabama, 
and  various  assemblages  of  private  citizens  in  other  parts  of  the 
country.  In  the  autumn  of  1823  he  was  elected  to  the  Senate 
of  the  United  States,  and  in  the  following  year  was  put  in  regular 
nomination  for  the  presidency.  The  election  had  to  be  decided 
by  the  House  of  Representatives,  and  Adams,  who  stood  next  to 
Jackson  in  popularity  at  the  polls,  was  declared  to  be  President 

After  the'  expiration  of  four  years  Jackson  was  once  more  en- 
tered for  the  grand  presidential  race.  He%  distanced  his  rival, 
and  was  elected  President  (1828),  and  re-elected  (1832),  thus 
serving  his  country  in  the  highest  office  within  her  gift  fora  term 
of  eight  years.  The  same  decision  which  characterized  his  mili- 
tary career  gave  strength  and  vigor  to  his  presidency.  It  exposed 
him,  however,  to  the  severest  red-tape  criticism,  and  it  is  not  yet 
conceded  that  some  of  the  individual  actions  of  President  Jackson 
were  those  which  can  be  safely  handed  down  as  wholesome  pre- 
cedents for  the  future  administration  of  the  country. 

On  retiring  from  the  presidency  in  1836,  General  Jackson  re- 
turned to  his  home  in  Tennessee,  where  he  remained  in  honor- 
able retirement  for  the  residue  of  his  life,  largely  respected  by  all 
classes  of  men,  and  looked  up  to  by  a  great  party  as  the  oracle 
of  its  destinies.  He  died  on  the  8th  of  June,  1845.  The  heart 
of  the  nation  was  profoundly  moved  by  the  calamity,  and  some 
of  her  most  eminent  sons  pronounced  eulogiums  on  the  departed 
warrior.  From  one  of  these — the  splendid  effort  of  Daniel  Webster 
— we  reproduce  the  following  estimate  of  the  general's  character : 

"The  character  of  General  Jackson  while  he  lived  was  pre- 
sented hi  two  relations  to  his  country.  He  was  a  soldier,  and 
had  commanded  the  armies  of  the  republic,  and  he  has  filled  the 
office  of  chief  magistrate.  So  far  as  regards  his  military  reputa- 
tion and  merits,  I  partake  fully  in  the  general  estimate.  He  was 
a  soldier  of  dauntless  courage,  vigor,  and  perseverance,  an  officer 
of  skill  and  sagacity,  of  quickness  of  perception,  and  of  prompt 
and  resolute  execution  of  his  purposes.  There  is  probably  no 
division,  at  home  or  abroad,  as  to  his  merits  in  these  particulars. 

"  During  the  whole  of  his  civil  administration  it  happened  that 
I  was  a  member  of  the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  and  it  was 
my  misfortune  to  be  obliged  to  differ  with  him  in  regard  to  most 


ANDREW  JACKSON.  21 

of  his  leading  measures.  To  me  this  was  painful,  because  it 
much  better  suits  my  temper  and  feelings  to  be  able  to  support 
the  measures  of  government  than  to  find  myself  called  upon  by 
duty  to  oppose  them. 

"There  were  occasions,  however,  in  the  course  of  his  adminis- 
tration, in  which  no  duty  of  opposition  devolved  upon  me.  Some 
of  these  were  not  unimportant.  There  were  times  which  appear- 
ed to  me  to  be  critical,  calling  for  wisdom  and  energy  on  the  part 
of  the  government,  and  in  which  measures  proposed  and  opin- 
ions expressed  by  him  seemed  to  me  to  be  highly  suitable  to  the 
exigency.  On  these  occasions  I  supported  those  measures  with 
the  same  sincerity  and  zeal  as  if  I  had  never  differed  from  him 
before,  or  never  expected  to  differ  from  him  again. 

"  There  is  no  doubt  that  he  sought  to  distinguish  himself  by 
exalting  the  character  and  honor  of  his  country,  and  the  occa- 
sion on  which  it  was  uttered  rendered  somewhat  remarkable  his 
celebrated  sentiment  in  favor  of  the  preservation  of  the  Union. 
I  believe  he  felt  the  sentiment  with  the  utmost  sincerity,  and  this 
can  not  be  denied  to  be  one.  strong  proof  of  his  devotion  to  the 
true  interests  of  his  country. 

"  He  has  now  ceased  from  his  earthly  labors,  and  affects  the 
public  interests  of  the  state  only  by  his  example  and  the  influ- 
ence of  his  opinions.  We  may  well  suppose  that  in  the  last  days, 
and  hours,  and  moments  of  his  life,  and  with  the  full  conscious- 
ness of  the  change  then  before  him  and  so  near,  one  of  his  warm- 
est wishes  would  be,  that  whatever  errors  he  might  have  commit- 
ted should  be  passing  and  transitory  in  their  effect  upon  the  Con- 
stitution and  institutions  of  his  country ;  and  while  we  may 
well  ascribe  this  praisetyorthy  and  benign  sentiment  to  him,  let 
us,  with  equal  ingenuousness,  cherish  the  feeling,  that  whatever 
he  has  accomplished  for  the  real  good  of  the  country,  its  true  char- 
acter and  real  glory,  may  remain  a  just  inheritance  attached  to 
his  memory." 

"In  person,"  says  one  of  his  biographers,  "General  Jackson 
was  tall,  and  remarkably  erect  and  thin.  His  weight  bore  no  pro- 
portion to  his  height,  and  his  frame  in  general  did  not  appear 
fitted  for  trials  such  as  it  had  borne.  His  features  were  large ; 
his  eyes  dark  blue,  with  a  keen  and  strong  glance ;  his  eyebrows 
arched  and  prominent,  and  his  complexion  that  of  the  war-worn 
soldier.  His  demeanor  was  easy  and  gentle  :  in  every  station  he 


22  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

was  Open  and  accessible  to  all.  The  irritability  of  his  temper, 
which  was  not  denied  by  his  friends,  produced  contrasts  in  his 
manner  and  countenance  leading  to  very  different  conceptions  and 
representations  as  to  both ;  but  those  who  have  lived  and  acted 
with  him  bear  unanimous  testimony  to  the  general  mildness  of 
his  carriage  and  the  kindness  of  his  disposition.  It  is  certain 
that  he  inspired  his  soldiers,  his  military  household,  his  domestic 
circle,  and  his  neighbors  with  the  most  affectionate  sentiments. 
The  impetuosity  of  his  nature,  his  impatience  of  wrong  and  en- 
croachment, his  contempt  for  meanness,  and  his  tenaciousness  of 
just  authority,  involved  him  in  bitter  altercations  and  sanguinary 
duels :  his  resentments  were  fiercely  executed,  and  his  censures 
rashly  uttered ;  yet  he  can  not  be  accused  of  wanton  or  mali- 
cious violence ;  the  sallies  which  may  be  deemed  intemperate  can 
be  traced  to  strong  provocation,  operating,  in  most  instances,  upon 
his  patriotic  zeal,  and  the  very  generosity  and  loftiness  of  his 
spirit." 


JACOB    LEISLER 

THE  downfall  of  Popery  in  England,  occasioned  by  the  flight  of 
King  James  and  the  accession  of  William  of  Orange,  produced  a 
revolution  and  a  hero  in  New  York  both  of  a  remarkable  nature. 
It  is  a  fragment  of  history  belonging  exclusively  to  the  times,  and 
having  no  kind  of  bearing  on  subsequent  events,  except  that  its 
lesson  has  been  too  soon  forgot.  But  it  ended  in  bloodshed,  and 
in  the  martyrdom  of  a  man  whose  name  will  be  imperishably  re- 
corded in  the  annals  of  the  country. 

When  the  news  of  the  change  of  dynasty  in  England  reached 
New  York,  it  was  greeted  with  approbation  by  the  majority  of 
the  inhabitants.  Papists  who  held  offices  were  at  once  suspended. 
By  this  action,  and  by  the  common  cause  of  misfortune,  they  be- 
came banded  together,  and  formed  a  formidable  party,  all  the 
more  dangerous  from  the  fact  that  the  administration  under  the 
new  government  had  not  yet  made  its  appearance.  Fearful  ru- 
mors were  circulated  that  the  Jacobites  (as  they  were  called)  in- 
tended to  take  summary  vengeance  on  the  triumphant  Protestants ; 
that  they  were  marching  in  great  force  to  destroy  the  city,  and 
generally  that  they  were  going  to  avenge  the  cause  of  their  fallen 
master  in  a  savage  manner,  and  regain  the  authority  which  had 
been  hastily  wrested  from  them. 

In  a  community  not  abundantly  protected,  these-  rumors  and 
apprehensions  were  very  fearful.  The  desire  for  safety  suggested 
to  the  citizens  the  propriety  of  delegating  the  entire  authority  of 
the  city  to  one  man,  until  such  time  as  the  new  governor  appoint- 
ed by  WILLIAM  should  arrive.  The  choice  fell  upon  Jacob  Leisler, 
the  subject  of  the  present  brief  sketch. 

Of  Leisler's  early  history  very  little  is  known.  He  came  be- 
fore the  public  at  a  time  when  the  hard  work  of  his  life — the 
building  of  a  fortune — had  been  nearly  accomplished.  Previous 
to  this  he  had  resided  in  Albany,  probably  engaged  in  the  fur 
trade,  and  where  also  he  discharged  the  duties  of  a  magistrate. 
He  was  known  for  his  opposition  to  Popery,  and  for  the  exercise 
of  all  his  power  to  prevent  its  spread.  From  Albany  he  came  to 


24  SELF-MADE  MEN 

New  York,  and  at  once  obtained  popularity  by  benevolently  pur- 
chasing the  freedom  of  a  family  of  French  Huguenots,  who  were 
so  poverty-stricken  on  landing  that  a  public  tribunal  decided  they 
should  be  sold  into  slavery  in  order  to  pay  the  expenses  of  their 
voyage.  By  these  and  similar  acts  Leisler  became  known,  and  fa- 
vorably known,  to  the  little  community. 

At  that  time  there  were  five  military  companies  in  the  city, 
and  a  sergeant's  guard  of  royal  troops.  These  were  the,  only  or- 
ganized protectors  of  the  town,  and  were  under  the  command  of 
Nicholas  Bayard,  a  man  who  was  believed  to  be  favorable  to  the 
cause  of  the  late  king.  Jacob  Leisler  was  captain  of  one  of  the 
companies,  and  was  eminently  popular  with  the  men  and  with 
his  brother  officers,  excepting,  of  course,  the  colonel. 

On  the  2d  of  June,  1689,  the  people  of  New  York,  supported 
by  the  military  companies  aforesaid,  proceeded  to  the  residence  of 
Leisler,  and  invited  him  to  place  himself  at  their  head.  At  first 
he  refused,  but  finally  consented.  Immediately  afterward  the 
keys  of  the  fort  were  placed  in  his  hands.  Alarmed  at  these 
proceedings,  Lieutenant  Governor  Nicholson  convened  his  coun- 
cil, and,  calling  upon  all  public  magistrates  to  unite  with  him,  he 
demanded  the  government  money,  which,  being  kept  in  the  fort, 
was  now  in  possession  of  Leisler.  No  attention  was  of  course 
paid  to  the  demand.  The  colonel  of  the  military  companies  also 
tried  what  effect  his  influence  would  have,  but  found  out  in  a 
very  short  time  that  the  most  prudent  thing  he  could  do  was  to 
look  after  his  own  safety.  On  Leisler's  side,  four  hundred  of  his 
companions  in  arms  signed  an  agreement  to  hold  the  fort  "  for 
the  present  Protestant  power  that  reigns  in  England,"  while  a 
committee  of  safety,  composed  often  freeholders  of  the  city,  whose 
names,  as  they  have  come  down  to  us,  represent  in  equal  ratio  the 
Dutch,  the  French,  and  the  English  population  of  that  early  pe- 
riod, assumed  the  powers  of  a  provisionary  government,  of  which 
they  declared  Jacob  Leisler  to  be  the  head.  They  appointed  him 
"  captain  of  the  fort  or  citadel,"  gave  hina  power  "  to  suppress  ex- 
ternal and  internal  enemies  of  the  peace,  and  preserve  the  order 
of  the  Province  of  New  York,"  to  "  use  the  power  of  authority  of 
commander-in-chief  until  orders  shall  have  come  from  their  maj- 
esties," and  to  "  do  all  such  acts  as  were  requisite  for  the  good 
of  the  province,  taking  council  with  the  militia  and  civil  author- 
ity as  occasion  might  require." 


JACOB  LEISLER  25 

Leisler's  first  act  was  one  of  loyalty.  He  proclaimed  King 
William  by  sound  of  trumpet  to  the  rejoicing  people.  This  step 
provoked  immediate  action  from  the  other  side.  The  deposed 
Jacobins  appointed  three  commissioners  to  receive  the  revenues 
until  orders  should  arrive  from  the  king.  Leisler  proceeded  to 
the  Custom-house,  where  the  commissioners  held  their  meetings, 
and  demanded  by  what  right  they  pretended  to  act.  The  only 
reply  they  condescended  to  make  was  an  attempt  to  forcibly  eject 
Leisler  from  their  presence.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  ill 
advised.  The  adherents  of  the  popular  cause  were  naturally  in- 
censed at  the  treatment  of  their  captain.  -  The  preparatory  dem- 
onstrations of  a  riot  began  to  show  themselves.  Captain  Bayard 
was  set  upon,  and  would  have  been  the  first  victim  of  vengeance 
but  for  the  intercession  of  Leisler.  It  became  apparent  that  it 
would  not  do  to  trifle  with  the  people,  so  Bayard  fled  to  Albany, 
rather  the  worse  for  handling,  andNicholson,  the  lieutenant  gov- 
ernor, obtained  safety  on  shipboard,  and,  as  soon  as  possible,  sailed 
for  England. 

When  quiet  was  restored,  Leisler  made  active  preparations  for 
the  defense  of  the  city,  not  only  against  the  Papists,  but  against 
the  French.  He  established  a  six-gunned  battery  commanding 
the  harbor,  and  thereby  secured  for  the  city  one  of  the  most  pleas- 
ant promenades  it  can  boast  (the  Battery).  Having  thus  at- 
tended to  the  most  important  duties  of  his  station,  he  sat  down 
and  honestly  wrote  an  account  of  what  he  had  done  to  the  King 
of  England.  He  was  not  much  of  a  scholar,  and  there  were  some 
defects  in  the  style  and  spelling  of  his  dispatch,  but  it  was  straight- 
forward and  manly,  and  told  the  truth — qualities  that  are  not 
too  often  combined  in  official  documents. 

To  provide  against  an.  invasion  of  French  and  Indians  from 
Canada,  Leisler  dispatched  his  secretary,  Colonel  Milbourne  (who 
had  recently  arrived  from  England),  to  Albany,  with  a  body  of 
followers.  They  took  their  departure  in  three  shipsr  and  arrived 
in  due  course.  At  this  time  most  of  the  officials  at  Albany  held 
their  commissions  from  the  deposed  monarch,  and  were  conse- 
quently violently  opposed  to  the  administration  of  Leisler,  whom 
they  denounced  as  a  boor,  and  looked  upon  as  a  usurper.  The 
most  active  among  these  was  Robert  Livingston,  and  by  his  insti- 
gation the  citizens  of  Albany  were  made  to  believe  that  Milbourne 
and  the  troops  under  his  command  came  to  invade  their  rights, 

B 


26  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

and  not  to  protect  them.  Bloodshed  would  have  resulted  but  for 
the  discretion  and  cool  bravery  of  Milbourne. 

When  these  things  were  made  known  to  Leisler,  he  immedi- 
ately issued  a  warrant  against  Livingston  as  a  rebel,  and  against 
Colonel  Bayard,  who  had  also  contributed  his  influence  to  excite 
the  Albanians.  Livingston  fled  to  New  England,  and  was  not 
heard  of  afterward,  except  in  a  very  tragical  way,  which  will  be 
related  hereafter.  Bayard  sneaked  into  New  York,  and  tried  to 
obtain  possession,  in  a  surreptitious  way,  of  a  dispatch  from  the 
king.  He  was  denounced  to  Leisler  by  the  bearer  of  the  dispatch 
in  question ;  was  forthwith  arrested  and  put  in  jail  "  upon  the 
charge  of  high  misdemeanors  against  his  majesty's  authority." 

These  events  gave  a  decided  character  to  the  administration  of 
Jacob  Leisler,  and  his  opponents  saw  that  nothing  but  an  exten- 
sive and  unscrupulous  organization  could  overthrow  its  power. 
Parties  were  now  distinctly  defined:  for  the  people's  governor — 
for  the  Jacobites. 

In  midwinter  the  threatened  attack  of  the  French  took  place. 
On  the  9th  of  February,  1690,  after  a  remarkable  march,  about 
two  hundred  French  and  Indians  made  a  sudden  descent  upon 
Schenectady,  and  massacred  sixty-three  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, besides  making  twenty-seven  prisoners  and  destroying  the 
village.  The  atrocity  and  boldness  of  this  crime  threw  the  prov- 
ince into  a  state  of  the  most  intense  agony.  For  their  own  safety, 
the  Albanians  were  now  ready  to  co-operate  with  the  executive 
of  New  York.  Leisler  concluded,  and  wisely,  that  the  success  of 
this  attack  would  lead  to  others  of  a  more  horrible  character,  and 
that  the  only  remedy  was  to  carry  the  war  into  the  enemy's  own 
country,  and  conquer  Canada  itself.  He  at  once  addressed  let- 
ters to  the  governors  of  the  other  provinces,  and  Jersey,  Mary- 
land, and  Connecticut  (avored  the  enterprise.  Thus  encouraged, 
he  straightway  armed  and  equipped  the  first  man-of-war  ever  fitted 
out  in  the  harbor  of  New- York ;  and  in  a  short  time  a  fleet  of 
three  vessels  sailed  from  the  bay,  with  orders. to  proceed  immedi- 
ately to  Quebec,  and  co-operate  with  the  land  forces  that  would 
join  them  there  from  the  other  provinces.  This  decision  and  ac- 
tivity met  with  a  poor  return.  A  number  of  disasters  befell  the 
expedition,  and  no  good  was  done  at  all.  There  is  no  reason  to 
doubt  that  Leisler' s  enemies  threw  all  the  impediments  they  could 
in  his  way,  and  were  perhaps  more  pleased  with  the  failure  of  the 


JACOB  LEISLER.  27 

expedition  than  they  would  have  been  with  its  success.  Certain 
it  is  that  the  land  forces  (upon  whom  every  thing  depended)  un- 
der General  Winthrop  made  an  ignominious  retreat,  without  hav- 
ing even  reached  the  shores  of  Lake  Champlain. 

When  the  news  became  known  to  Leisler,  he  hurried  in  person 
to  Albany,  and  ordered  the  general  to  be  placed  under  arrest — 
a  very  proper  measure,  but  extremely  hazardous  for  one  whose 
power  was  not  yet  consolidated.  The  Jacobites  attributed  the 
failure  of  the  expedition  to  Leisler,  and  this  decided  action  was  a 
good  opportunity  for  raising  the  cry  of  tyranny.  All  the  malcon- 
tents united  themselves  to  oppose  the  power  of  the  governor  and 
to  effect  his  overthrow.  The  people,  who  had  exhausted  them- 
selves in  equipping  the  unsuccessful  expedition,  were  impatient 
and  dissatisfied.  It  was  not  difficult  to  persuade  the  thoughtless 
and  unreasonable  masses.  The  Jacobites  had  their  opportunity, 
and  made  the  best  use  of  it. 

In  England  a  new  governor  had  been  appointed  by  William  as 
early  as  1689,  but,  until  two  years  later,  Leisler  knew  nothing  of 
the  circumstance.  The  first  notice  of  Governor  Slough ter's  ap- 
pointment was  brought  to  this  country  by  Captain  Ingoldsby,  who, 
with  his  company,  arrived  in  advance.  This  weak  creature  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  anti-Leislerians,  and  was  immediately  used 
by  them.  With  an  impudence  that  was  remarkable  even  for  a 
captain  of  foot,  he  demanded  that  Leisler  should  immediately  sur- 
render his  authority  into  his  hands.  Leisler  replied  that  he  would 
do  so  the  moment  he  saw  an  order  from  the  British  ministry  re- 
quiring him  to  do  so,  or  from  Colonel  Sloughter,  the  newly-ap- 
pointed governor.  Ingoldsby  being  destitute  of  the  authority  that 
Leisler  required,  the  latter  simply  issued  a  proclamation  announc- 
ing that  Colonel  Sloughter  had  been  appointed  governor  of  the 
Province  of  New  York,  and  that  on  his  arrival  the  fort  and  gov- 
ernment would  be  cheerfully  surrendered  to  him.  In  the  mean 
time  he  desired  that  Ingoldsby  and  his  companions  might  receive 
all  proper  entertainment  and  kindness. 

This  discreet  policy  did  not  satisfy  the  enemies  of  Leisler.  The 
willing  tool,  Ingoldsby,  was  once  more  used  to  make  another  de- 
mand for  the  surrender  of  the  fort,  and,  being  again  unsuccessful, 
to  end  by  besieging  it.  Leisler  was  not  to  be  intimidated,  and 
retained  possession,  protesting  most  vehemently  against  the  con- 
duct of  Ingoldsby.  He  had  the  mayor  and  common  council  on 
his  side,  but  against  him  were  wealth,  fanaticism,  and  unserupu- 

+ 


28  vSELF-MADE  MEN". 

lousness.  The  royal  authority,  too,  was  held  in  dread,  and  people 
were  afraid  of  opposing  it  even  in  a  right  cause.  Desertions  be- 
came frequent  from  the  popular  ranks.  Every  day  Ingoldsby's  po- 
sition became  stronger.  He  saw  his  advantage,  and  freely  used  the 
terrible  word  rebel  against  Leisler  and  those  who  sided  with  him. 

The  noble  little  band  were  not  to  be  daunted  by  words.  They 
simply  replied  that  they  would  not  be  turned  from  their  duty  to 
God  and  the  king  by  fear  of  the  term  rebels,  and  resolved  that 
they  would  protect  their  liberty  at  the  hazard  of  their  lives.  In- 
goldsby  and  his  backers  were  somewhat  daunted  by  this  courage- 
ous action ;  but,  while  they  were  deliberating  as  to  what  should 
be  the  next  step,  the  long  absent  Sloughter  made  his  appearance 
(19th  of  March,  1691).  Before  he  had  touched  land,  Ingoldsby, 
as  the  mouthpiece  of  the  Jacobin  party,  had  poisoned  his  ear 
with  an  ex  parte  statement. 

Leisler's  first  act  was  to  satisfy  himself  as  to  the  identity  of 
Sloughter.  He  then  dispatched  his  son-in-law,  Col.  Milbourne, 
and  Mr.  De  la  Noye,  the  mayor,  to  consult  with  him  as  to  the 
proper  form  of  making  a  transfer  of  the  government,  and  also  to 
procure  some  guarantee  for  the  safety  of  himself  and  his  friends. 
These  peaceful  embassadors  were  immediately  handed  over  to  the 
guard.  Thus  brutally  outraged,  Leisler  determined  that  he  would 
not  surrender  the  fort  until  the  governor  and  his  full  council  had 
taken  the  customary  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  Protestant  king  and 
government.  This  ceremony  was  gone  through  on  the  day  follow- 
ing, and  Leisler  immediately  handed  over  his  authority  to  the  new 
official.  He  felt  that  he  'had  protected  the  province  in  a  critical 
period  ;  that  he  had  acted  firmly  and  conscientiously  for  the  com- 
mon good.  It  was  with  a  sense  of  relief,  therefore,  that  he  wrote 
to  Sloughter  '^that  he  would  give  his  excellency  an  exact  account 
of  all  his  actions  and  conduct." 

The  ink  with  which  he  wrote  was  scarcely  dry  when  he  and 
nine  of  his  friends  were  dragged  off  to  prison  as  common  rebels. 
A  special  commission  of  Oyer  and  Terminer  was  issued  to  try  the 
prisoners,  and  the  governor  named  eight  jndges  for  the  purpose. 
The  task  of  making  a  selection  was  an  easy  one.  He  selected 
four  of  his  own  friends  and  four  others  who  were  known  enemies 
of  Leisler.  When  the  trial  came  on,  Leisler  refused  to  acknowl- 
edge the  authority  of  the  court,  but  it  was  of  no  avail.  An  in- 
iquitous verdict  was  returned,  and  Leisler  and  Milbourne  were 
condemned  to  death. 


JACOB  LEISLEK.  29 

By  this  time  Sloughter  seems  to  have  awakened  to  a  slight 
sense  of  justice,  as  clear,  perhaps,  as  his  fuddled  faculties  would 
allow  him  to  see  it.  He  hesitated  to  sign  the  death-warrant. 
This  did  not  satisfy  the  bloodhounds  who  were  seeking  Leisler's 
life.  Unfortunately,  they  were  acquainted  with  Sloughter' s  weak- 
nesses. They  invited  him  to  a  supper,  plied  him  with  wine,  and 
in  the  midst  of  the  orgy  the  drunken  idiot  scrawled  his  name  to  the 
fatal  document.  Without  a  moment's  delay  it  was  conveyed  to  the 
sheriff,  and  the  two  unfortunate  men  were  led  forth  to  execution. 

The  scaffold  stood  at  the  lower  end  of  what  is  now  called  the 
Park.  A  company  of  soldiers  under  the  command  of  Ingoldsby 
surrounded  it,  and  kept  off  the  populace,  already  pressing  forward 
to  obtain  a  last  look  of  a  noble  martyr  and  his  brave  companion  ; 
some,  perhaps,  to  triumph  over  their  downfall.  They  stood  to- 
gether, unawed  by  the  occasion.  Milbourne  spoke  first.  Ho  hud 
but  little  to  say,  but  It  was  awful :  "  Robert  Livingston,  I  will  im- 
plead  thee  at  the  bar  of  heaven  for  this  deed !"  Leisler,  touched 
by  the  untimely  fate  of  his  son-in-law,  turned  to  him  and  said, 
"Why  must  you  die?  You  have  been  but  as  a  servant  doing  my 
Avill,  and,  as  a  dying  man,  I  declare  before  God  that  what  I  have 
done  was  for  King  William  and  Queen  Mary,  the  defense  of  the 
Protestant  religion,  and  the  good  of  the  country."  Commending 
his  soul  to  the  Savior,  and  praying  for  his  enemies,  "  Father, 
forgive  them;  they  know  not  what  they  do,"  this  strong  man, 
upright  and  noble  to  the  last,  suffered  the  final  penalty  of  the 
law,  if  the  word  law  can  be  used  in  such  a  base  connection.  A 
fierce  tempest  raged  in  the  heavens,  as  if  Nature  were  indignant 
at  the  outrage.  "  The  shrieks  of  the  people,"  says  a  writer  of 
the  time,  "  were  dreadful ;  some  were  carried  away  lifeless,  and 
some,  rushing  forward,  almost  ere  the  life  of  their  beloved  ruler 
was  extinct,  cut  off  pieces  of  his  garments  as  precious  relics,  and 
his  hair  was  divided,  out  of  great  veneration,  as  for  a  martyr." 

These  measures  were  subsequently  disapproved  by  the  English 
king,  and  the  attainders  against  the  murdered  heroes  reversed ; 
but  the  shame  of  the  transaction  will  last  to  the  end  of  history. 
Well  might  Dr.  Increase  Mather  write  to  Governor  Dudley,  "  I 
am  afraid  that  the  guilt  of  innocent  blood  is  still  crying  in  the 
ears  of  the  Lord  against  you :  I  mean  the  blood  of  Leisler  and 
Milbourne.  My  Lord  Bellamont  said  to  me  that  he  was  one  of 
the  committee  of  Parliament  who  examined  the  matter,  and  that 
those  men  were  not  only  murdered,  but  barbarously  murdered." 


DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

THIS  renowned  statesman  and  eloquently  intellectual  man  was 
born  at  Salisbury,  Merrimac  County,  New  Hampshire,  on  the 
18th  of  January,  1782.  In  the  immediate  vicinity  his  ancestors 
(who  were  of  Scotch  descent)  had  lived  from  the  earliest  times. 
The  house  in  which  he  was  born  was  the  centre  of  a  tract  of  one 
hundred  and  sixty  acres  of  land,  on  the  produce  of  which  the 
family  depended.  His  father  was  a  man  of  large  and  stalwart 
form,  of  swarthy  complexion,  and  of  remarkable  features  ;  of  clear 
intellect,  strong  convictions,  and  indomitable  will.  Many  of  these 
traits,  especially  the  last,  survived  in  his  illustrious  son. 

From  his  mother  Daniel  Webster  received  the  first  rudiments 
of  an  education.  Mrs.  Webster  is  described  as  an  unusually  beau- 
tiful woman,  of  superior  intellect  and  of  the  warmest  affections. 
She  prophesied  that  her  son  would  become  eminent,  and  lived  to 
see  a  portion  of  the  prophecy  fulfilled.  He  was  a  member  of 
Congress  when  she  died. 

About  half  a  mile  from  the  farm  was  a  log  school-house  kept 
by  Master  Tappan.  To  this  primitive  academy  the  little  Daniel 


DANIEL  WEBSTER.  31 

repaired  when  he  could  be  spared  from  home.  "He  was  the 
brightest  boy  in  the  school,"  wrote  the  master  many  years  after- 
ward, "and  Ezeldel  next;  but  Daniel  was  much  quicker  at  his 
studies  than  his  brother.  He  would  learn  more  in  five  minutes 
than  another  boy  in  five  hours.  One  Saturday,  I  remember,  I 
held  up  a  handsome  new  jack-knife  to  the  scholars,  and  said,  the 
boy  who  would  commit  to  memory  the  greatest  number  of  verses 
in  the  Bible  by  Monday  morning  should  have  it.  Many  of  the 
boys  did  well ;  but  when  it  came  to  Daniel's  turn  to  recite,  I  found 
that  he  had  committed  so  much,  that,  after  hearing  him  repeat 
some  sixty  or  seventy  verses,  I  was  obliged  to  give  up,  he  telling 
me  that  there  were  several  chapters  yet  that  he  had  learned. 
Daniel  got  that  jack-knife."  Mr.  Webster  never  forgot  his  early 
tutor,  and  only  a  few  months  before  his  death  wrote  him  a  kind 
note  inclosing  a  remittance.  In  the  busy  time  of  the  year  Daniel 
Webster  assisted  his  father.  He  was  a  "  handy"  lad,  and  could 
learn  how  to  do  a  thing  with  much  quickness.  He  was  particu- 
larly useful  in  assisting  his  father  to  saw  logs  at  a  little  mill 
which  he  worked.  Here,  while  waiting  for  the  saw  to  pass 
through  the  logs  (an  operation  which  consumed  about  ten  min- 
utes), he  economized  his  time  by  carefully  studying  some  author 
whose  prized  volume  he  had  brought  with  him.  So  tenacious 
was  his  memory,  that,  in  the  last  year  of  his  life,  he  was  able  to 
recite  large  portions  of  the  works  he  had  committed  in  this 
strange  manner.  It  was  at  this  period  of  his  life  that  he  first  be- 
came acquainted  with  the .  Constitution  of  the  United  States,  the 
first  copy  of  which  he  perused  on  a  cotton  pocket-handkerchief 
imported  from  England. 

When  Mr.  Webster  had  attained  his  fourteenth  year,  he  had 
an  opportunity  of  spending  a  few  months  at  the  Phillips  Acade- 
my, Exeter,  where  he  enjoyed  the  tuition  and  kindly  counsels  of 
•Dr.  Benjamin  Abbot.  He  mastered  the  principles  and  philoso- 
phy of  the  English  grammar  in  less  than  four  months,  and  imme- 
diately commenced  the  study  of  the  Latin.  In  his  fifteenth  year 
he  was  privileged  to  spend  some  months  with  the  Rev.  Samuel 
Woods,  a  popular  divine  who  lived  at  Boscawen,  and  prepared 
hoys  for  college  at  one  dollar  a  week  for  tuition  and  board. 
Daniel  was  unmindful  of  the  routine  of  the  establishment,  al- 
though he  studied  his  lessons  attentively  and  well.  He  seemed 
to  be  too  fond  of  hunting  in  the  neighborhood,  and  Mr.  Woods 


32  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

reprimanded  him,  giving  him,  as  a  punishment,  a  hundred  lines  of 
Virgil  to  commit  to  memory.  Daniel  made  up  his  mind  that  he 
would  be  revenged.  He  knew  that  on  the  next  day  Mr.  Woods 
wanted  to  get  away  from  the  school  as  early  as  possible,  in  order 
to  pay  a  visit  to  a  neighboring  town ;  before  going,  however,  he 
was  to  hear  the  hundred  lines.  On  the  following  morning  Dan- 
iel presented  himself,  book  in  hand,  and  without  the  slightest  hes- 
itation recited  the  hundred  lines  in  a  way  which  drew  forth  the 
commendation  of  his  instructor.  "  I  have  a  few  more  lines  that 
I  can  recite,"  said  the  malicious  Daniel,  as  he  observed  Mr.  Woods 
about  to  close  the  book  and  take  his  departure.  An  additional 
hundred  lines  were  reeled  off  with  the  greatest  ease.  "You  are 
a  smart  boy,"  said  Mr.  Woods,  making  another  start  for  the  door. 
"  I  have  a  few  more  I  can  recite,  sir,"  said  Daniel,  adding,  by  way 
of  last  feather  to  break  the  camel's  back,  "  about  five  hundred,  I 
think."  This  was  more  than  the  doctor  had  bargained  for.  He 
was  behind  time  with  his  engagement,  and  was  really  the  only 
one  of  the  twain  who  received  punishment.  "That  is  enough, 
Dan ;  you  may  have  the  whole  day  for  pigeon -shooting." 

The  extraordinary  promise  which  Daniel  Webster  displayed 
induced  his  father,  though  ill  able  to  bear  the  expense,  to  send 
him  to  Dartmouth,  where  he  graduated  in  1801.  His  progress  in 
the  college  had  been  so  rapid  that  it  was  fully  expected  he  would 
have  received  the  valedictory,  but  that  was  reserved  for  some 
more  fortunate  scholar.  All  that  he  received  was  a  diploma, 
which  he  deliberately  tore  up  in  the  presence  of  a  few  compan- 
ions. "  My  industry  may  make  me  a  great  man,"  he  said,.  "  but 
this  miserable  parchment  can  not."  It  must  not  be  supposed 
from  this  circumstance  that  Mr.  Webster  was  indifferent  to  the 
advantages  of  a  college  education.  On  the  contrary,  the  moment 
he  returned  home  it  became  the  object  of  his  life  to  secure  to  his 
brother  Ezekiel  similar  advantages.  He  felt  probably  a  little  in1 
dignant  that  he  had  received  merely  the  common  honors  of  the 
collegiate,  when  he  had  worked  for  something  more  praiseworthy. 
It  was  his  determination  now  to  become  a  schoolmaster,  in  order 
that  he  might  have  the  funds  to  assist  his  brother.  In  a  short 
time  he  established  himself  in  Fryeburg,  Maine,  with  a  friend  of 
his  father.  He  received  a  salary  of  $350,  and  by  devoting  his 
evenings  to  the  laborious  occupation  of  copying  deeds  for  the 
county  recorder  at  twenty-five  cents  each,  was  able  to  make  a 


DANIEL  WEBSTER.  33 

considerable  increase  to  this  sum.  The  latter  occupation  directr 
ed  his  attention  to  the  study  of  the  law,  and  while  pursuing  it 
he  carefully  read  Blackstone's  Commentaries  and  other  substan- 
tial works,  which  contributed  in  a  large  measure  to  the  solid 
foundation  of  his  after-fame.  Mr.  Webster  described  himself  at 
this  time  as  "  long,  slender,  pale,  and  all  eyes."  He  was  known 
round  the  country  by  the  nickname  of  All  Eyes.  In  his  habits  he 
was  remarkably  steady,  his  only  recreation  being  trout-fishing, 
the  solitary  enjoyment  of  which  he  greatly  enhanced  by  usually 
taking  with  him  a  volume  of  Shakspeare. 

Mr.  Webster  studied  the  law  with  Mr.  Christopher  Gore,  and 
was  admitted  to  practice  in  Boston  in  1805.  Two  years  later  he 
was  admitted  to  practice  in  the  courts  of  New  Hampshire,  and 
soon  after  took  up  his  residence  at  Portsmouth,  where  he  remained 
about  nine  years.  He  enjoyed  a  fair  share  of  practice,  and  was 
able  to  assist  his  father  in  a  pecuniary  way,  so  as  to  relieve  him 
of  a  burden  of  debts  which  pressed  heavily  on  his  spirits. 

In  1817  Mr.  Webster  took  up  his  permanent  residence  in  the 
city  of  Boston.  This  step  was  rendered  necessary  by  the  condi- 
tion of  his  finances,  which  had  suffered  greatly  by  his  election  to 
Congress  (in  1812),  and  by  a  fire  in  which  all  his  property  was 
destroyed.  In  Boston  he  was  well  known  and  highly  appreciated, 
but  it  was  a  dangerous  experiment  for  a  young  man  to  thrust  him- 
self into  an  arena  where  the  best  forensic  talent  of  the  country 
struggled  for  pre-eminence.  He  had  the  friendship  of  a  number 
of  opulent  merchants,  and  in  a  few  months  his  name  was  known 
as  the  senior  counsel  in  many  important  trials.  His  powers  were 
soon  recognized,  and  the  sharpness  of  his  invective,  free,  however, 
from  narrowness  or  personality,  became  a  matter  of  complaint 
with  his  brethren  of  the  bar.  The  people  appreciated  this  kind 
of  oratory,  and  he  soon  became  famous.  "  As  were  his  manners 
at  the  bar  some  thirty  years  ago,"  says  Mr.  Knapp,  "  so  were  they 
through  his  life,  whenever  he  appeared  in  a  deliberative  assembly. 
He  began  to  state  his  points  in  a  low  voice,  and  in  a  slow,  cool, 
cautious,  and  philosophical  manner.  If  the  case  was  of  import- 
ance, he  went  on  hammering  out,  link  by  link,  the  chain  of  argu- 
ment with  ponderous  blows  leisurely  inflicted ;  and  while  thus  at 
labor,  you  rather  saw  the  sinews  of  the  arm  than  the  skill  of  the 
artist.  It  was  in  reply,  however,  that  he  came  out  in  the  majesty 
of  intellectual  grandeur,  and  poured  forth  the  opulence  of  his  mind  j 

B2 


34  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

it  was  when  the  arrows  of  the  enemy  had  hit  him  that  he  was  all 
might  and  soul,  and  showered  his  words  of  weight  and  fire.  His 
style  of  oratory  was  founded  on  no  model,  but  was  entirely  his  own. 
He  dealt  not  with  the  fantastical  and  poetical,  but  with  the  mat- 
ter-of-fact every-day  world,  and  the  multifarious  affairs  of  his  fel- 
low-men, extricating  them  from  difficulties,  and  teaching  them 
how  to  become  happy.  He  never  strove  to  dazzle,  astonish,  or 
confuse,  but  went  on  to  convince  and  conquer  by  great  but  legiti- 
mate means.  When  he  went  out  to  battle  he  went  alone^  trust- 
ing to  no  earthly  arm  but  his  own.  He  asked  for  no  trophies  but 
his  own  conquests  ;  he  looked  not  for  the  laurel  of  victory,  but  it 
was  proffered  to  him  by  all,  and  bound  his  brow  until  he  went 
out  on  some  new  exploit." 

Mr.  Webster's  public  career  belongs  to  the  history  of  the  coun- 
try. In  this  place  it  is  only  necessary  to  say  that  he  occupied  a 
prominent  position  in  its  councils  for  upward  of  forty  years — for 
a  good  portion  of  the  time  being  nearest  to  the  President  in  po- 
sition, and  seldom  falling  beneath  him  in  absolute  power.  "  It 
was  before  he  had  attained  his  thirtieth  year,"  says  Mr.  Lanman, 
in  his  interesting  "  Private  Life  of  Daniel  Webster,"  quoting  from 
Knapp,-"when  the  times  were  stormy,  and  party  spirit  ran  high 
in  view  of  a  war  with  Great  Britain,  that  he  entered  the  field  of 
politics,  like  one  who  had  made  up  his  mind  to  be  decided  and 
straightforward  in  all  his  actions.  No  politician  was  ever  more 
direct  and  bold,  and  he  had  nothing  of  the  demagogue  about  him. 
Fully  persuaded  of  the  true  course,  he  followed  it  with  so  much 
firmness  and  principle  that  sometimes  his  serenity  was  taken  by 
the  furious  and  headstrong  as  apathy ;  but  when  a  fair  and  legiti- 
mate opportunity  offered,  he  came  out  with  such  strength  and 
manliness  that  the  doubting  were  satisfied  and  the  complaining  si- 
lenced. In  the  worst  of  times  and  the  darkest  hour,  he  had  faith 
in  the  redeeming  qualities  of  the  people.  They  might  be  wrong, 
but  he  saw  into  their  true  character  sufficiently  to  believe  that 
they  would  never  remain  permanently  in  error.  In  some  of  his 
conversations  upon  the  subject,  he  compared  the  people,  in  the 
management  of  the  national  affairs,  to  that  of  the  sagacious  and 
indefatigable  raftsmen  on  his  native  Merrimac,  who  had  falls 
and  shoals  to  contend  with  in  their  course  to  the  ocean,  guid- 
ing fearlessly  and  skillfully  over  the  former,  between  rocks  and 
.through  breakers ;  and,  when  reaching  the  sand-banks,  jumping 


DANIEL  WEBSTER.  35 

off  into  the  water  with  lever,  axe,  and  oar ;  and  then,  with  push- 
ing, cutting,  and  directing,  made  all  rub  and  go,  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  those  looking  on.  The  first  political  glory  that  hung 
around  his  brow  was  at  a  convention  of  the  great  spirits  in  the 
county  of  Rockingham,  where  he  then  resided,  and  such  repre- 
sentatives from  other  counties  as  were  sent  to  this  convention,  to 
take  into  consideration  the  state  of  the  nation,  and  to  mark  out 
such  a  course  for  themselves  as  should  be  deemed  advisable  by 
the  collected  wisdom  of  those  assembled.  On  this  occasion,  an 
address,  with  a  struag  of  resolutions,  were  proposed  for  adoption, 
of  which  he  was  the  author.  They  exhibited  uncommon  powers 
of  intellect,  and  a  profound  knowledge  of  our  national  interests. 
He  made  a  most  powerful  speech  in  support  of  these  resolutions, 
portions  of  which  were  printed  at  the  time,  and  much  admired 
throughout  the  Union.  ,From  this  time  he  belonged  to  the  United 
States,  and  not  to  New  Hampshire  exclusively.  Massachusetts 
also  took  as  great  an  interest  in  his  career  as  his  native  state. 
After  the  above  debut,  crowds  gathered  around  him  on  every  oc- 
casion that  he  appeared,  and  his  speeches  were  invariably  received 
with  the  most  sincere  and  heartfelt  applause."  The  preparation 
of  these  speeches  was  a  matter  of  serious  solicitude  to  Mr.  Web- 
ster. He  obtained  the  material  for  them  with  great  care  and  in- 
dustry, and  wrought  them  with  considerable  labor.  They  were, 
on  all  important  occasions,  finished  productions,  which  will  en- 
dure as  long  as  the  language  is  read  and  understood.  Mr.  Web- 
ster was  not  a  believer  in  extemporaneous  oratory.  The  position 
he  occupied  before  the  world  was  undoubtedly  one  reason  why 
he  bestowed  unusual  care  on  all  his  efforts  ;  another  is  to  be  found 
in  the  fact  that  he  had  never  "  gone  through  the  mill"  in  State 
Legislatures.  In  alluding  to  this  circumstance  at  Syracuse,  Mr. 
Webster  made  the  following  humorous  remarks  :  "  It  has  so  hap- 
pened that  all  the  public  services  which  I  have  rendered  in  the 
world,  in  my  day  and  generation,  have  been  connected  with  the 
general  government.  I  think  I  ought  to  make  an  exception.  I 
Avas  ten  days  a  member  of  the  Massachusetts  Legislature,  and  J 
turned  my  thoughts  to  the  search  of  some  good  object  in  which  I 
could  be  useful  in  that  position ;  and,  after  much  reflection,  I  in- 
troduced a  bill,  which,  with  the  general  consent  of  botk  houses  of 
the  Massachusetts  Legislature,  passed  into  a  law,  and  is  now  a 
law  of  the  state,  which  enacts  that  no  man  in  the  state  shall  catch 


30  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

trout  in  any  other  manner  than  in  the  old  way  with  an  ordinary 
hook  and  line.  (Great  laughter.)  With  that  exception,  I  never 
was  connected  for  an  hour  with  any  state  government  in  my  life. 
I  never  held  office,  high  or  low,  under  any  state  government. 
Perhaps  that  was  my  misfortune. 

"At  the  age  of  thirty  I  was  in  New  Hampshire  practicing  law, 
and  had  some  clients.  John  Taylor  Oilman,  who  for  fourteen 
years  was  governor  of  the  state,  thought  that,  a  young  man  as  I 
was,  I  might  be  fit  to  be  an  .attorney  general  of  the  State  of 
New  Hampshire,  and  he  nominated  me  to  the  council ;  and  the 
council,  taking  it  into  their  deep  consideration,  and  not  happen- 
ing to  be  of  the  same  politics  as  the  governor  and  myself,  voted, 
three  out  of  five,  that  I  was  not  competent,  and  very  likely  they 
were  right.  (Laughter.)  So  you  see,  gentlemen,  I  never  gained 
promotion  in  any  state  government." 

In  1807  Mr.  Webster  found  himself  in  a  position  to  settle  in 
life,  and  was  united  in  marriage  to  Grace  Fletcher,  a  young  lady 
of  his  own  age,  with  whom  he  had  long  had  a  satisfactory  under- 
standing. Mrs.  Webster  died  in  1827,  leaving  a  husband  who 
never  ceased  to  remember  her  with  affection.  Mr.  Webster  de- 
lighted to  speak  of  her  as  the  "  mother  of  his  children" — a  title 
fraught  with  exalted  love.  In  April,  1816,  Mrs.  Webster,  the 
mother  of  the  statesman,  died,  at  the  advanced  age  of  seventy-six. 
Among  the  specimens  of  art  which  adorned  Mr.  Webster's  library 
at  Marshfield  was  a  quaint  old  profile,  cut  in  black  paper,  as  was 
the  fashion  some  years  back.  Under  the  portrait  were  the  words, 
"My  excellent  mother,"  in  the  handwriting  of  the  statesman. 
Following  close  on  this  event  was  another  which  threw  him  into 
deep  affliction.  His  first-born,  and,  at  that  time,  only  daughter, 
sickened  and  died.  Throughout  her  illness  Mr.  Webster  remained 
by  her  bedside,  watching  her  with  a  tenderness  almost  feminine. 
He  was  detained  from  his  place  in  Washington  for  two  months 
of  the  session  of  1816-17  by  this  calamity. 

When  Mr.  Webster  settled  in  Boston  it  was  his  intention  to 
decline  all  political  nominations,  and  devote  himself  exclusively 
to  the  pursuit  of  his  profession.  For  a  time  he  succeeded  in 
doing  so,  but  occupying  as  he  did  a  most  prominent  place  in  the 
public  regard,  the  task  was  a  difficult  one.  In  1822'  a  committee 
called  upon  him  and  read  to  him  the  vote  of  the  Convention  by 
which  he  had  been  nominated  a  representative  to  the  Congress 


DANIEL  WEBSTER.  37 

of  the  United  States,  and  informed  him  that  they  were  instructed 
to  listen  to  no  answer.  Mr.  Webster  thus  found  himself  almost 
a  compulsory  candidate.  He  was  elected  by  a  thousand  majority, 
and  re-elected  in  1824,  receiving  four  thousand  and  ninety  out  of 
five  thousand  votes.  In  1826  he  was  re-elected  for  the  third  time, 
but,  before  taking  his  seat,  a  vacancy  occurring  in  the  senatorial 
delegation,  he  was  sent  to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States  by  the 
Legislature  of  Massachusetts.  It  was  while  on  his  way  to  "Wash- 
ington that  his  wife  died  in  the  city  of  New  York. 

Mr.  Webster  visited  Europe  in  1839.  In  England  he  was  re- 
ceived with  gratifying  enthusiasm.  On  his  return  he  was  called  to 
the  cabinet,  and  in  relations  equally  near  to  the  highest  continued 
during  the  remainder  of  his  political  career. 

Mr.  Webster  was  a  man  of  enormous  mental  capacity,  and  from 
the  earliest  was  a  hard  worker.  He  had  the  genius  and  the  incli- 
nation to  do  things  perfectly ;  to  do  every  thing  as  well  as  it  could 
be  done.  He  was  methodical,  and  "an  early  riser."  "What 
little  I  have  accomplished,"  he  used  to  say,  "has. been  done  early 
in  the  morning.'-'  He  rose  with  the  lark,  and  even  in  Washington 
found  time  to  do  the  marketing  for  his  own  table,  or  to  cast  a  fly 
on  the  Potomac  before  the  business  of  the  day  commenced.  Mr. 
Webster  was  passionately  fond  of  out-door  recreations  ;  he  was  a 
farmer  in  feeling  and  in  fact.  "  You  can  not  mention  the  fee  which 
I  value  hah0  as  much  as  I  do  a  morning  walk  over  my  farm,  the 
sight  of  a  dozen  yoke  of  my  oxen  furrowing  one  of  my  fields,  or 
the  breath  of  my  cows,  and  the  pure  ocean  air."  With  in-door 
amusements,  such  as  chess,  billiards,  etc.,  he  was  unfamiliar. 
Every  one  has  heard  of  Mr.  Webster's  piscatorial  predilections. 
Nothing  gave  him  greater  satisfaction  than  a  quiet  day's  fishing. 

In  his  domestic  habits  he  was  remarkable  for  a  graceful  play- 
fulness and  a  complete  unbending  to  the  sportive  impulse  of  the 
moment.  When  he  arose  in  the  morning  he  might  be  heard  sing- 
ing a  scrap  of  discordant  melody,  much  to  his  own  amusement. 
He  generally  wound  up  on  such  occasions  with  the  remark  that 
if  there  was  any  thing  he  understood  well  it  was  singing.  He 
had  a  fondness,  too,  for  spelling  out,  in  the  most  unheard-of  man- 
ner, the  various  familiar  remarks  which  he  had  occasion  to  utter. 
The  lowing  of  a  cow  or  the  cawing  of  a  crow  has  sometimes  start- 
ed him  not  only  to  imitate  those  creatures  with  his  own  voice, 
but  nearly  all  the  other  animals  that  were  ever  heard.  He  was 


338881 


38  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

also  in  the  habit,  when  in  a  certain  mood,  of  grotesquely  employ- 
ing the  Greek,  Latin,  and  French  languages,  with  a  sprinkling  of 
Yankee  and  Western  phrases,  in  familiar  conversation ;  and  he 
had  an  amusing  way  of  conjugating  certain  proper  names,  and  o< 
describing  the  characters  of  unknown  persons  by  the  meaning  of 
their  names.  He  was,  withal,  one  of  the  best  story-tellers  in  the 
world,  and  every  thing  he  related  in  that  line  had  a  good  climax. 
When  fishing,  he  used  to  round  off  sentences  for  futnre  use,  and 
many  a  trout  has  been  apostrophized  in  imperishable  prose..  A 
couple  of  fine  fish  were  passed  into  his  basket  with  the  following 
rhetorical  flourish,  which  was  subsequently  heard  in  the  Bunker 
Hill  Oration :  "  Venerable  men  !  you  have  come  down  to  us  from 
u  former  generation.  Heaven  has  bounteously  lengthened  out 
your  lives  that  you  might  behold  this  day." 

It  remains  for  us  now  to  transfer  to  these  pages  a  record  of  the 
last  moments  of  this  truly  great  man.  In  doing  so  we  shall  use 
the  language  of  Mr.  Lanman,  his  private  secretary  and  friend,  who 
was  with  him  to  the  last,  and  who  describes  the  last  moments  of 
Mr.  Webster  with  such  grace  and  simple  loveliness  that  no  excuse 
would  justify  the  omission. 

"The  more  rapid  decline  of  Mr.  Webster  commenced  while  at 
Marshfield,  about  one  week  before  his  death,  which  occurred  just 
l>efore  three  o'clock  on  Sunday  morning,  the  twenty-fourth  of  Oc- 
tober (1852).  He  was  in  the  seventy-first  year  of  his  age,  and 
had,  therefore,  just  passed  the  allotted  period  of  human  life.  He 
looked  upon  his  coming  fate  with  composure  and  entire  resigna- 
tion." On  the*  afternoon  of  the  twenty-third  he  conversed  freely, 
und  with  great  clearness  and  detail,  in  relation  to  the  disposal  of 
his  affairs.  His  last  autograph  letter  was  addressed  to  the  Pres- 
ident ;  and  among  the  directions  that  he  gave  respecting  his  mon- 
ument was  that  it  should  be  no  larger  than  those  erected  to  the 
mother  of  his  children,  and  to  Julia  and  Edward.  He  dictated 
an  epitaph,  which  will  in  due  time  be  published. 

"  At  five  o'clock  he  was  seized  with  a  violent  nausea,  and  raised 
considerable  dark  matter  tinged  with  blood,  which  left  him  in  a 
state  of  great  exhaustion  and  debility.  The  physician  in  attend- 
ance, Dr.  John  Jeffries,  then  announced  to  Mr.  Webster  that  his 
last  hour  was  rapidly  approaching.  He  received  the  announce- 
ment calmly,  and  directed  all  the  females  of  the  family  to  be  call- 
ed into  the  room,  and  addressed  to  each  of  them  individually  a 


DANIEL  WEBSTER.  39 

few  affectionate  parting  words,  and  bade  them  a  final  farewell. 
He  then  took  leave  of  his  male  relatives  and  personal  friends,  in- 
cluding his  farmers  and  servants,  addressing  each  individually  in 
reference  to  their  past  relations,  and  bade  each  an  affectionate 
adieu.  The  last  of  his  family  that  he  parted  with  was  Peter  Har- 
vey Webster,  a  grandson,  the  child  of  Fletcher  Webster,  for  whom 
he  invoked  the  richest  blessings  of  Heaven.  He  then  said,  as  if 
speaking  to  himself,  '  On  the  twenty-fourth  of  October  all  that  is 
mortal  of  Daniel  Webster  will  be  no  more.'  In  a  full  and  clear 
voice  he  then  prayed  most  fervently,  and  impressively  concluded 
as  follows :  '  Heavenly  Father,  forgive  my  sins,  and  welcome  me 
to  thyself,  through  Christ  Jesus.'  Dr.  Jeffries  then  conversed 
with  him,  and  told  him  that  medical  skill  could  do  nothing  moi  e, 
to  which  he  replied,  '  Then  I  am  to  lie  here  patiently  to  the  end. 
If  it  be  so,  may  it  come  soon.'  His  last  words  were,  i  I  still  live  ? 
and,  coming  from  such  lips,  it  seems  to  me  they  can  not  but  fully 
convince  the  most  hardened  skeptic  of  the  immortali ty  of  the  soul. 
They  seem  to  fall  upon  the  ear  from  beyond  the  tomb,  and  to  be 
the  language  of  a  disembodied  spirit  passing  into  Paradise.  Dur- 
ing his  last  hour  he  was  entirely  calm,  and  breathed  his  life  away 
so  peacefully  that  it  was  difficult  to  fix  the  precise  moment  that 
he  expired." 

Mr.  Webster  was  buried  without  form  or  parade  at  Marshfield, 
on  the  29th  of  October,  1852,  the  simple  and  unpretending  cer- 
emonies of  the  grave  being  performed  by  the  village  pastor. 
Throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  nation  the  memory  of 
the  departed  was  solemnly  honored.  In  the  heart  of  every  Amer- 
ican, on  that  day  and  forever,  Daniel  Webster  " still  lives" 


ELIHU  BURRITT. 

IT  was  remarked  by  Coleridge  that  the  shoemaker's  trade  nur- 
tured a  greater  number  of  eminent  men  than  any  other.  Sir  Ed- 
ward Bulwer  Lytton  quaintly  theorizes  on  this  assertion.  In  his 
novel  of  "  What  will  he  do  with  it  T'  he  introduces  a  worthy  son 
of  St.  Crispin,  who,  after  touching  on  the  mental  peculiarities,  of 
butchers,  bakers,  and  tallow-chandlers,  establishes  an  agreeable 
comparison  between  his  own  trade  and  that  of  a  tailor.  "  A  tailor 
sits  on  a  board  with  others,  and  is  always  a  talking  with  'em,  and 
a  reading  the  news;  therefore  he  thinks  as  his  fellows  do,  smart 
and  sharp,  bang  up  to  the  day,  but  nothing  'riginal,  and  all  his 
own  like.  But  a  cobbler,"  continued  the  man  of  leather,  with  u 
majestic  air,  "  sits  by  hisself,  and  talks  with  hisself,  and  what  he 
thinks  gets  into  his  head  without  being  put  there  by  another  man's 
tongue."  A  reason  sufficiently  philosophical  for  human  pur- 
poses. 

The  subject  of  this  memoir  was  the  son  of  a  shoemaker  of 
Bridgeport,  Connecticut,  and  was  born  at  New  Britain,  in  the- 
same  state,  on  the  llth  of  December,  1811.  Both  his  parents 
were  of  English  descent ;  Elihu  being  the  youngest  of  five  broth- 


ELIHU  BURRITT.  41 

el's,  who,  with  five  sisters,  comprised  his  father's  family.  This  ex- 
tensive home  circle  was  swayed  with  upright  firmness  and  pater- 
nal attention.  The  children  were  educated  by  their  parents,  and 
brought  up  in  the  fear  of  God,  and  love  of  liberty,  so  essential  to 
the  well-being  of  Republican  youth. 

During  the  winter  months  Elihu  and  his  brothers  enjoyed  the 
privilege  of  attending  the  district  school,  where,  until  he  was  six- 
teen years  of  age,  he  studied  with  avidity.  It  must  be  remember- 
ed, however,  that  it  was  only  for  three  or  four  months  in  the  year 
that  he  could  be  spared  for  these  congenial  pursuits.  At  other 
times  he  bore  his  share  of  the  general  labor. 

The  death  of  Mr.'  Burritt  occurred  when  Elihu  was  sixteen. 
It  became  necessary  to  strike  out  a  path  for  himself  in  the  world  ; 
and,  with  this  object  in  view,  Elihu  apprenticed  himself  to  a  black- 
smith, with  whom  he  remained  until  his  twenty-first  year.  Long 
before  this  period  he  had  displayed  a  fervent  thirst  for  knowledge. 
All  the  incidents  of  the  Revolutionary  war  were  securely  stored 
in  his  mind ;  he  was  familiar  with  the  Bible,  and  now  obtained 
access  to  the  town  library.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  had  read 
every  book  of  history  contained  in  it.  He  next  proceeded  to  po- 
etry. Thomson's  "  Seasons"  took  his  earliest  attention  in  this 
department.  From  the  paucity  of  books,  and  his  love  of  this  kind 
of  reading,  he  limited  himself  to  a  page  a  day,  lest  he  should  get 
through  the  luxury  too  soon.  His  memory  was  tenacious,  and  he 
committed  astonishing  quantities  of  "  Young's  Night  Thoughts," 
"  Pollok's  Course  of  Time,"  "  Shakspeare,"  and  "  Milton."  Not- 
withstanding his  literary  tastes,  he  became  a  most  excellent  black- 
smith. He  seemed  to  possess  the  faculty  of  making  extremes 
meet  in  the  most  powerful  way ;  of  welding  sentences  and  cart- 
wheels with  equal  facility. 

Having  digested  all  that  he  could  attack  in  the  library,  and 
mastered  his  trade,  he  began  to  look  fondly  at  those  authors  who 
were  yet  beyond  his  reach.  The  idea  of  becoming  a  scholar  now 
illuminated  his  mind.  It  grew  with  his  growth,  and  became  irre- 
sistible. He  determined  that  he  would  make  an  effort  to  accom- 
plish his  desires,  and,  on  the  expiration  of  his  indentures,  placed 
himself  under  the  tuition  of  his  brother,  a  lawyer  and  man  of 
education.  With  the  assistance  which  this  gentleman  afforded 
him  Elihu  pursued  the  study  of  the  Mathematics,  took  up  Latin, 
and  commenced  French.  After  spending  the  winter,  and  exhaust- 


42  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ing  his  scanty  resources  in  this  way,  he  returned  to  the  forge,  and 
voluntarily  undertook  the  work  of  two  men  in  order  that  lu; 
might  make  up  for  lost  time.  Physically  laborious  as  was  his  oc- 
cupation, he  wrought  hard  for  fourteen  hours  a  day. 

After  he  could  read  French  with  pleasure,  says  the  Rever- 
end R.  W.  Bailey,  to  whom'  we  are  indebted  for  the  materials  of 
this  sketch,  he  took  up  Spanish.  After  reading  the  Spanish  with 
ease  he  commenced  the  Greek,  carried  his  grammar  in  his  hat 
while  he  worked,  and  studied  at  the  anvil  and  the  forge.  He 
pursued  this  course  until  the  fall  of  the  yeaf  (1833).  He  then 
made  his  arrangements  to  devote  himself  to  study  for  another  win- 
ter. He  went  to  New  Haven,  not  so  much,  as  he  said,  to  find  a 
teacher,  as  under  a  conviction  that  there  was  the  proper  place  to 
study.  As  soon  as  he  arrived  he  sat  down  to  the  reading  of  Ho- 
mer's Iliad  alone,  without  notes,  or  translation,  or  any  other  help. 
At  the  close  of  the  first  day,  after  intense  application,  he  had  read 
fifteen  lines,  much  to  his  own  satisfaction.  After  this  successful 
effort,  he  determined  to  go  on  without  a  teacher ;  he  accordingly 
made  a  systematic  distribution  of  his  time  and  studies.  He  rose 
at  four,  and  studied  German  until  breakfast,  then  studied  Greek 
until  noon,  then  spent  an  hour  at  Italian.  In  the  afternoon  he 
studied  Greek  until  night,  and  then  studied  Spanish  until  bed- 
time. This  course  he  continued  until  he  could  read  two  hundred 
lines  a  day  of  Homer,  besides  carrying  forward  the  other  studies 
in  their  order.  During  the  winter  he  -read  twenty  books  of  Ho- 
mer's Iliad,  besides  studying  with  equal  success  the  other  lan- 
guages in  the  hours  assigned  to  them. 

In  the  spring  he  returned  to  the  anvil,  but  an  invitation  to 
teach  a  grammar-school  soon  after  induced  him  to  cast  aside  his 
apron  and  assume  the  ferule  of  the  pedagogue.  In  this  occupa- 
tion he  continued  for  a  year,  and  then,  as  agent  for  a  manufactur- 
ing company,  traveled  extensively  through  the  country.  During 
this  period  his  studies  were  of  course  entirely  interrupted.  He 
returned  to  the  anvil  once  more,  and  resumed  his  mental  and 
physical  labors  with  renewed  enthusiasm. 

Having  become  proficient  in  the  ancient  and  European  lan- 
guages, this  indefatigable  scholar  turned  his  attention  to  the  Ori- 
ental tongues.  The  means  for  acquiring  a  competent  knowledge 
of  these  were  limited,  and  Burritt  conceived  the  idea  of  enlisting 
as  a  sailor,  in  order  that  he  might  travel  to  places  more  available 


ELIHU  BURRITT.  43 

for  his  purposes.  Acting  on  the  impulse,  he  abandoned  his  forge, 
and  proceeded  to  Boston  to  obtain  a  ship.  Unsuccessful  in  this, 
he  began  to  look  around,  and  heard  accidentally  of  tke  American 
Antiquarian  .Society  at  AVorcester.  He  immediately  proceeded 
thither,  and  found,  as  he  says,  to  his  infinite  gratification,  such  a 
collection  of  books  on  ancient,  modern,  and  Oriental  languages  as 
he  never  before  conceived  to  be  collected  together  in  one  place. 
The  free  use  of  the  library  was  cordially  tendered  to  him,  and,  in 
order  that  he  might  enjoy  it  at  his  leisure,  he  made  arrangements 
to  study  three  hours  a  day,- and  follow  his  business  of  blacksmith 
ut  other  times.  In  this  manner  ha  made  the  acquaintance  of  a 
number  of  Oriental  tongues,  and  before  he  left  Worcester  was 
able  to  read  "  Hebrew,  Greek,  Latin,  Gaelic,  English,  Welsh,  Irish, 
Celtic,  French,  Spanish,  Portuguese,  Italian,  German,  Flemish, 
Saxon,  Gothic,  Icelandic,  Polish,  Bohemian,  Russian,  Sclavonic, 
Armenian,  Turkish,  Chaldaic,  Syriac,  Samaritan,  Arabic,  Ethio- 
pic,  Indian,  Sanscrit,  and  Tamul." 

Mr.  Bailey  publishes  an  interesting  account  of  a  visit  to  Mr. 
Burritt's  smithy.  "  On  my  first  arrival  at  Worcester,  I  proceeded 
directly  from  the  cars  to  inquire  out  Mr.  Burritt.  After  two  or 
three  directions  I  arrived  at  an  extensive  iron  foundry.  In  a  long 
line  of  workshops  I  was  directed  to  that  in  which  Mr.  Burritt  was 
employed.  I  entered,  and,  seeing  several  forges,  sought  for  the 
object  of  my  visit.  '  He  has  just  left,  and  is  probably  in  his 
study,'  said  a  son  of  Vulcan,  resting  his  hammer  on  his  shoulder 
meanwhile ;  '  there  is  his  forge,'  pointing  to  one  that  was  silent. 
I  had  but  a  moment  to  study  it.  Its  entire  structure  and  appa- 
ratus resembled  ordinary  forges,  except  that  it  was  neater  and  in 
better  order.  Mr.  Burritt  is  a  bachelor  and  a  journeyman,  and 
earns  a  shilling  an  hour  by  contract  with  the  proprietor  of  this 
foundry.  He  lives  and  furnishes  himself  Avith  books  by  this  la- 
borious application  to  his  trade.  Seeing  on  his  table  what  ap- 
peared to  be  a  diary,  I  read  as  follows :  *  August  18.  Forged  16 
hour's — read  Celtic  3  hours — translated  2  pages  of  Icelandic,  and 
three  pages  of  German.'  This  was  a  single  item  of  similar  rec- 
ords which  run  through  the  book.  To  abate  my  surprise,  he 
told  me  that  this  was  a  correct  memorandum  of  the  labors  of  ev- 
ery day;  but  the  sixteen  hours  of  labor  was  that  which  he  per- 
formed in  a,  job,  and  for  which  he  was  paid  by  the  estimate  of  its 
value,  but  that  he  performed  it  in  eight  hours,  thus  gaining  both 


44  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

• 

time  arid  money  by  double  labor.  Eight  hours  a  day  is  his  ordi- 
nary habit  of  labor  at  the  forge."  The  same  writer  describes  Mr. 
Burritt  (1843)  as  a  person  of  middle  stature,  rather  slender  pro- 
portions, high,  receding  forehead,  deeply  set,  steady,  grayish  eye, 
thin  visage,  fair  complexion,  thin,  compressed  upper  lip,  a  hectic 
glow,  and  hair  bordering  on  the  brown  or  auburn.  There  is 
nothing  in  his  frame  to  indicate  a  habit  of  hard  labor  except  the 
round  shoulder,  and  an  arm  and  hand  disproportioned  in  .size  and 
muscle  to  the  other  parts  of  the  body,  and  resulting,  of  course, 
from  the  practice  of  his  trade. 

In  1844  Mr.  Burritt  commenced  the  publication  of  a  news- 
paper called  "The  Christian  Citizen,"  and  from  that  time  to 
the  present  has  been  best  known  for  his  advocacy  of  peace  doc- 
trines, in  connection  with  the  "  League  of  Universal  Brother- 
hood." The  earnestness  with  which  he  disseminates  his  views, 
and  his  enthusiasm  on  the  subject  of  brotherhood  have  doubtless 
had  their  effect  on  the  temper  of  the  times.  Mr.  Burritt  is  also 
a  strenuous  advocate  of  an  ocean  penny  postage.  As  the  gifted 
advocate  of  these  matters,  he  has  visited  Europe,  and  delivered 
animated  and  popular  lectures  in  most  of  the  principal  cities.  In 
the  peace  conferences  of  London,  Paris,  Brussels,  and  Frankfort 
he  took  a  conspicuous  part.  In  the  publications  of  the  League 
Mr.  Burritt  exercises  his  pen  with  eminent  ability.  His  other 
literary  productions  include  "  Sparks  from  the  Anvil,"  "  A  Voice 
from  the  Forge,"  and  "  Peace  Papers  for  the  People,"  besides 
some  translations  from  the  northern  classics. 

Mr.  Burritt  furnishes  a  remarkable  instance  of  what  may  be 
accomplished  by  perseverance  in  spite  of  the  most  unfavorable 
circumstances.  A  forge,  of  all  places  in  the  world,  would  seem 
the  least  favorable  for  the  prosecution  of  studies  demanding  an 
unusual  concentration  of  mind ;  yet,  by  a  contented  exercise  of 
the  will,  Mr.  Burritt  was  deaf  to  the  tumult  which  surrounded 
him,  and  was  able  to  accomplish  an  amount  of  study  which  places 
him  in  the  front  rank  of  great  scholars.  The  other  phase  of  his 
character,  in  which  he  has  manifested  decided  originality  and  phi- 
lanthropy, will  be  better  appreciated  when  the  beneficence  of  his 
efforts  are  reviewed  by  the  historian.  In  every  respect  Mr.  Bur- 
ritt is  great  and  noble,  and  his  name  will  descend  to  future  gen- 
erations as  a  bright  example  of  a  self-made  man. 


DE.  ALEXANDER  MURRAY. 

THIS  eminent  man  was  born  in  a  little  parish  called  Minnigaff, 
Scotland,  on  the  22d  of  October,  1775.  His  father  deserves  some 
fame,  for  at  the  time  of  Alexander's  birth  he  was  nearly  seventy 
years  of  age;  a  mature,  but  hale  and  hearty  parent.  He  had  been 
a  shepherd  all  his  life,  and  to  the  unrestrained  and  healthful  free- 
dom of  that  ancient  occupation  may  be  ascribed  the  continued  vig- 
or of  his  physical  being  to  such  an  advanced  period. 

To  this  patriarch  Alexander  was  indebted  for  the  rudiments 
of  an  education.  A  Catechism,  with  an  alphabet  in  it,  was  the 
text-book  used,  and  esteemed  as  a  treasure  of  such  price  that  it 
was  never  delivered  into  the  hands  of  the  pupil.  "As  it  was 
too  good  a  book  for  me  to  handle  at  all  times,"  says  the  doctor, 
"it  was  generally  locked  up,  and  he,  throughout  the  winter, 
drew  the  figures  of  the  letters  to  me,  in  his  written  hand,  on  the 
board  of  an  old  wool-card,  with  the  black  end  of  an  extinguished 
heather  stem,  or  root  snatched  from  the  fire.  I  soon  learned  all 
the  alphabet  in  this  form,  -and  became  writer  as  well  as  reader." 
In  a  little  while  Alexander  had  mastered  the  Catechism  and  a 
book  of  Psalms.  The  family  Bible  was  out  of  his  reach,  but  he 
secured  a  loose  copy  of  the  holy  book,  and  read  it  so  attentively 
that  he  was  able  to  astonish  every  one  with  the  capacity  of  his 
memory  and  the  extent  of  his  research. 

Among  the  lowly  it  is  at  all  times  difficult  to  step  beyond  the 
narrow  limits  of  their  occupation.  All  Mr.  Murray's  sons  were 
shepherds,  and  at  the  age  of  seven  or  eight  Alexander  became  one 
as  a  matter  of  course.  He  was  not  destined  to  succeed,  however, 
in  this  calling,  and  was  often  blamed  by  his  father  as  lazy  and 
useless.  He  was  too  much  given  to  books,  and  writing  on  boards 
with  charcoal,  to  pay  particular  attention  to  the  flocks.  He  be- 
came a  very  remarkable  peasant  boy,  and  a  very  bad  shepherd. 

His  prospects  in  life  were  considered  decidedly  gloomy  by  his 
parents  and  brothers.  But  in  May,  1784,  an  uncle  came  to  the 
cottage,  and,  struck  with  the  remarkable  brightness  of  the  youth, 
offered  to  take  him  to  New  Galloway  for  a  short  time,  and  put 


46  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

him  to  school  there.  The  advantages  which  might  have  accrued 
from  this  act  of  liberality  were  cut  short  by  the  ill  health  of  Alex- 
ander. He  was  in  the  school  but  two  months,  when  it  became 
actually  necessary  that  he  should  return  home.  Hem  he  became 
once  more  a  shepherd,  with  a  literary  turn  for  boards  and  charcoal 
pencils.  Whenever  by  'good  fortune  he  obtained  a  sixpence,  he 
disbursed  it  instantly  on  ballads  and  penny  histories,  with  which 
his  pockets  and  his  head  were  constantly  filled.  These  establish- 
ed his  reputation  as  a  prodigy  in  the  neighborhood.  "  My  fame," 
he  says,  "  for  reading  and  memory  was  loud,  and  several  said  that 
1  was  a  living  miracle."  Serious  elders  of  the  Church,  even,  were 
astonished  at  his  remarkable  acquaintance  with  Holy  Writ. 

In  1787  Alexander  was  able  to  greatly  extfend  his  course  of 
reading.  A  friend  loaned  him  a  translation  of  "  Josephus"  and 
"  Salmon's  Geographical  Grammar,"  works  that  he  perused  with 
such  avidity  that  he  remembered  their  contents  to  the  end  of  his 
life.  He  was  now  twelve  years  of  age,  very  clever  at  every  thing 
except  taking  care  of  sheep,  and,  consequently,  a  source  of  very 
great  perplexity  to  his  parents.  It  was  necessary  that  he  should 
maintain  himself;  and,  with  this  object  in  view,  he  became  pri- 
vate teacher  in  the  families  of  two  neighboring  farmers.  For  his 
labors  in  this  new  field  of  enterprise  he  received  as  compensation, 
for  an  entire  winter,  the  magnificent -sum  of  sixteen  shillings! 
With  this  sum  he  unsealed  the  sources  of  human  knowledge.  He 
procured  an  edition  of  the  veritable  Cocker,  and  studied  arith- 
metic up  to  the  rule  of  three ;  he  obtained  other  books,  and  read 
them  with  a  purpose.  "  My  memory  now,"  he  says,  "  contained 
a  very  large  mass  of  historical  facts  and  ballad  poetry,  which  I  re- 
peated with  pleasure  to  myself,  and  the  astonished  approbation  of 
the  peasants  around  me." 

Much  to  the  delight  of  Alexander,  circumstances  permitted  him 
once  more  to  become  a  student  at  the  school  at  Minnigaff  to  the 
extent  of  three  days'  attendance  per  week.  He  made  the  most 
of  his  opportunity,  but  it  was  a  brief  one,  for  in  six  weeks  he  had 
to  look  after  his  own  living  again — that  is  to  say,  to  teach  what 
he  knew  to  the  children  of  the  neighboring  farmers. 

In  1790  he  again  attended  school  for  about  three  months  and 
a  half  of  the  summer,  and  it  was  during  this  brief  term  that  he 
conceived  the  ambitious  idea  of  becoming  a  scholar.  His  first  im- 
pulse he  attributes  to  the  curiosity  awakened  by  perusing,  in 


DR.  ALEXANDER  MURRAY.  47 

"  Salmon's  Geography"  a  transcript  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  trans- 
lated into  a  variety  of  living  arid  dead  languages.  About  the 
same  time  he  resolved  to  fit  himself,  if  possible,  for  the  duties  of 
a  clerk.  To  make  his  studies  contribute  to  both  results  was  now 
his  endeavor.  During  the  few  weeks  he  remained  at  school,  he 
obtained  a  grammatical  knowledge  of  the  English  language,  and 
commenced  the  study  of  French.  While  pursuing  the  latter,  his 
attention  was  directed  to  the  Latin  by  the  circumstance  of  a  boy 
complaining  that  he  had  once  been  set  to  learn  it.  Young  Alex- 
ander Murray  thus  describes  the  circumstance:  "About  the  15th 
of  June,  Kerr  (one  of  his  classmates)  told  me  that  he  had  once 
learned  Latin  for  a  fortnight,  but  had  not  liked  it,  and  still  had 
the  Rudiments  beside  him.  I  said,  '  Do  lend  me  them ;  I  wish  to 
see  what  the  nouns  and  verbs  are  like,  and  whether  they  resem- 
ble our  French.'  He  gave  me  the  book.  I  examined  it  for  four 
or  five  days,  and  found  that  the  nouns  had  changes  on  the  last 
syllables,  and  looked  very  singular.  I  used  to  repeat  a  lesson 
from  the  French  Rudiments  every  forenoon  in  school.  On  the 
morning  of  the  midsummer  fair  of  Newton  Stewart  I  set  out  for 
school,  and  accidentally  put  into  my  pocket  the  Latin  Grammar 
instead  of  the  French  Rudiments.  On  an  ordinary  day  Mr.  Cra- 
mond  would  have  chid  me  for  this ;  but  on  that  festive  morning 
he  was  in  excellent  spirits,  and  very  communicative.  With  great 
glee  he  replied,  when  I  told  him  my  mistake  and  showed  him  the 
Rudiments,  '  Gad,  Sandy,  I  shall  try  thee  with  Latin ;'  and  ac- 
cordingly read  over  to  me  no  less  than  two  of  the  declensions.  It 
was  his  custom  with  me  to  permit  me  to  get  as  long  lessons  as  I 
pleased,  and  never  to  fetter  me  by  joining  me  to  a  class.  There 
was  at  that  time  in  the  school  a  class  of  four  boys  advanced  as 
far  as  the  pronouns  in  Latin  Grammar.  They  ridiculed  my  sep- 
arated condition.  But  before  the  vacation  in  August  I  had  reach- 
ed the  end  of  the  Rudiments,  knew  a  good  deal  more  than  they 
by  reading  at  hqme  the  notes  on  the  foot  of  each  page,  and  was 
so  greatly  improved  in  French  that  I  could  read  almost  any  French 
book  at  opening  of  it.  I  compared  French  and  Latin,  and  riv- 
eted the  words  of  both  in  my  memory  by  this  practice.  When 
proceeding  with  the  Latin  verbs,  I  often  sat  in  the  school  all  mid- 
day, and  pored  on  the  first  page  of  Robert  Cooper's  (another 
schoolmate)  Greek  Grammar,  the  only  one  I  had  ever  seen.  He 
was  then  reading  Livy  and  learning  Greek.  By  help  of  his  book 


48  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

I  mastered  the  letters,  but  I  saw  the  sense  of  the  Latin  rules  in 
a  very  indistinct  manner.  Some  boy  lent  me  an  old  Corderius, 
and  a  friend  made  me  a  present  of  Eutropius.  I  got  a  cpmmon 
vocabulary  from  my  companion  Kerr.  I  read  to  my  teacher  a 
number  of  colloquies,  and  before  the  end  of  July  was  permitted 
to  take  lessons  in  Eutropius.  There  was  a  copy  of  Eutropius  in 
the  school  that  had  a  literal  translation.  I  studied  this  last  with 
great  attention,  and  compared  the  English  and  Latin.  When  my 
lesson  was  prepared,  I  always  made  an  excursion  into  the  rest  of 
every  book ;  and  my  books  were  not,  like  those  of  other  school- 
boys, opened  only  in  one  place,  and  where  the  lesson  lay." 

A  boy  of  young  Murray's  tastes  only  needed  to  be  placed  on 
the  right  track.  He  would  pursue  it  of  Ids  own  enthusiasm. 
After  leaving  school  he  purchased  an  old  copy  of  Ainsworth's 
Latin  Dictionary,  and  "literally  read  it  through,"  he  says.  His 
method  of  studying  was  remarkable,  and  was  probably  as  dry  as 
any  that  could  be  conceived  by  the  mind  of  man.  He  studied  the 
dictionary  backward  and  forward,  and  took  relaxation  in  the 
Grammar,  in  Caesar,  or  (by  way  of  dissipation)  in  Ovid.  During 
the  following  summer  (1791)  he  continued  this  course  ;  and  when 
he  went  to  school  again  for  another  course  of  three  months'  in- 
struction, he  was  able  to  pass  all  the  other  scholars,  and  to  read 
whatever  came  in  his  way  in  English,  Latin,  or  Greek.  In  the 
latter  languages  he  addressed  Mr.  Maitland,  the  clergyman  of  the 
parish,  who,  struck  with  the  proficiency  of  the  boy,  extended  to 
him  the  freedom  of  a  small  classical  library,  the  contents  of  which 
Alexander  Murray  eagerly  devoured.  He  arose  from  the  repast 
with  a  fresh  appetite,  namely,  for  Hebrew.  To  appease  this,  he 
procured  a  copy  of  Robertson's  Hebrew  Grammar,  and  got  through 
it  in  a  month,  notwithstanding  its  many  intricacies  ;  next  follow- 
ed a  dictionary,  which  he  subjugated  in  his  usual  way.  Before 
the  end  of  the  summer  he  was  able  to  read  the  Bible  in  Hebrew. 
Thus,  in  something  less  than  eighteen  months,  he  had  mastered 
the  principal  difficulties  of  four  languages,  the  French,  Latin, 
Greek,  and  Hebrew,  and  had  read  several  of  the  best  authors  in 
each.  All  this,  too,  in  spite  of  innumerable  and  discouraging  in- 
terruptions. 

The  winter  of  1791  he  passed  in  teaching,  and  earned  thirty- 
rive  or  forty  shillings,  so  that  he  was  able  to  return  to  school 
for  the  last  time  in  the  summer  of  1792,  remaining  three  months 


DR.  ALEXANDER  MURRAY.  49 

and  a  half.  The  different  periods  of  school  attendance  added 
together,  says  one  of  his  biographers,  make  about  thirteen  montljs, 
scattered  over  a  period  of  nearly  eight  years.  From  November, 
1792,  till  March  of  the  following  spring,  he  was  once  more  em- 
ployed in  teaching,  at  a  salary  of  thirty  shillings.  During  this 
time  he  prosecuted  his  studies  vigorously,  and  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  an  Anglo-Saxon  alphabet,  which  was  his  intro- 
duction to  the  northern  languages.  He  obtained  also  a  treatise 
in  Welsh,  and,  without  dictionary  or  grammar,  set  about  making 
it  out.  "  I  mused  a  good  deal  on  the  quotations  of  Scripture 
that  abound  in  it,"  he  says,  "and  got  acquainted  with  many 
Welsh  words  and  sentences.  If  I  had  a  copy  of  the  Bible  in  any 
language  of  which  I  knew  the  alphabet,  I  could  make  considera- 
ble progress  in  learning  it,  without  grammar  or  dictionary.  This 
is  done  by  minute  observation  and  comparison  of  words,  termina- 
tions, and  phrases." 

In  the  autumn  of  1792  Murray's  ambition  took  a  new  direc- 
tion. His  imagination  had  become  inflamed  by  reading  the  clas- 
sic poets  and  Milton,  and  he  believed  himself  capable  of  writing 
an  epic  poem.  After  perpetrating  several  thousand  lines,  he  had 
the  good  sense  to  feel  and  acknowledge  that  he  was  not  yet  fitted 
for  the  task,  and  the  firmness,  remarkable  in  a  young  poet,  to 
commit  his  crude  verses  to  the  flames.  Far  more  practical  was 
his  next  literary  effort,  which  consisted  of  a  translation  from  the 
Latin  of  a  series  of  lectures  by  a  German  professor.  With  this 
work  under  his  arm,  he  repaired  to  Dumfries  in  1794,  but  nei- 
ther of  the  two  publishers  in  the  place  would  undertake  the  risk 
of  publication.  He  then  prepared  a  small  volume  of  poems  in 
the  Scottish  dialect;  but  Hsirns,  to  whom  he  showed  them,  advised 
him  not  to  publish  them.  The  object  that  young  Murray  had  in 
view  was  to  raise  the  means,  in  some  way  or  other,  of  defraying 
his  expenses  at  college.  It  was  natural  that  he  should  feel  down- 
hearted and  dispirited  at  these  reverses. 

To  a  very  humble  admirer  Murray  was  indebted  for  his  first 
step  in  the  world.  This  was  a  peddler  by  the  name  of  M'Harg, 
who  knew-  Murray  well,  and  who  was  in  the  habit  of  sounding 
his  fame  as  a  genius  wherever  he  went.  Among  others  to  whom 
lie  spoke  on  the  subject  was  Mr.  James  Kinnear,  of  Edinburgh, 
then  a  journeyman  printer  in  the  King's  Printing-office.  Mr. 
Kinnear,  with  a  zeal  in  behalf  of  unfriended  merit  which  does 

C 


50  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

him  infinite  honor,  immediately  suggested  that  Murray  should 
transmit  an  account  of  himself  and  some  evidences  of  his  attain- 
ments to  Edinburgh,  which  he  undertook  to  lay  before  some  of 
the  literary  characters  of  that  city.  Murray  was  of  course  too 
happy  to  act  on  this  suggestion,  and  the  result  exceeded  his  most 
sanguine  expectations.  The  professors  of  the  University  were 
astonished  at  his  attainments,  and  at  once  threw  open  then*  classes, 
and  provided  for  his  maintenance  while  attending  them.  Assist- 
ance he  did  not  long  need.  In  the  city  he  found  plenty  of  em- 
ployment for  his  pen,  and  good  remuneration  for  the  exercise  of 
his  acquirements.  . 

The  struggles  of  this  remarkable  youth  'were  now  at  an  end. 
He  remained  in  Edinburgh  until  1806,  having  in  the  interval 
passed  through  the  course  of  studies  necessary  to  qualify  him  for 
the  Scottish  Church.  His  fondness  for  languages  remained  un- 
abated ;  one  by  one  he  mastered  the  Oriental  and  northern  lan- 
guages, and  of  the  Ethiopia  and  Abyssinian  dialects  he  had  a 
more  critical  knowledge  than  any  other  European  of  his  day. 
This  circumstance  led  him  to  undertake  a  new  edition  of  Bruce's 
Travels  (1802),  a  work  which  at  once  placed  him  in  the  foremost 
rank  of  Oriental  scholars. 

In  1806  he  left  Edinburgh  to  assume  the  duties  of  the  pulpit, 
and  for  six  years  officiated  as  clergyman  of  the  parish  of  Urr  in 
Dumfriesshire.  From  this  honored  field  of  labor  he  was  recalled 
to  the  University,  to  fill  the  professor's  chair  of  Oriental  languages. 
The  degree  of  doctor  of  divinity  was  now  conferred  upon  him,  and 
he  entered  on  the  discharge  of  his  duties  with  an  ardor  which  led 
to  the  most  untimely  result.  The  preparation  of  his  lectures,  the 
supervision  of  philological  works,  the  ren&ering  of  new  translations, 
the  prosecution  of  fresh  studies,  were  undertaken  and  accomplished 
at  the  price  of  health.  Dr.  Murray  could  not  be  persuaded  that 
he  was  sick  and  failing,  nor  indeed  did  he  know  it,  until  it  was 
too  late.  He  kept  his  bed  for  one  day  only,  and  died  in  the  thir- 
ty-eighth, year  of  his  age,  at  a  time  when  all  that  could  gratify  a 
scholar  was  within  his  grasp.  He  left  behind  him  a  reputation 
and  an  example  which  may  be  imitated  by  the  hard-pressed  and 
humble  in  this  world. 


LIEUT.  MATTHEW   F.  MAUEY. 

IT  seems  to  be  the  fate  of  the  most  ancient  and  honorable  of 
professions  to  lag  tardily  in  the  rear  of  the  spirit  of  the  age. 
Agriculture  and  navigation  have  been  peculiarly  open  to  this 
charge,  and  it  is  only  of  late  years  that  either  has  made  any  prog- 
ress indicating  a  high  degree  of  philosophical  observation.  So  far 
as  this  relates  to  navigation,  the  credit  is  almost  entirely  due  to 
Lieut.  Maury,  a  gentleman  whose  persevering  efforts,  continued 
through  a  course  of  years,  have  enabled  him  to  furnish  results 
which  are  of  the  highest  importance  to  the  marine  of  the  world. 

Matthew  F.  Maury  was  born  near  Fredericksburg,  Spottsylvania 
County,  Virginia,  on  the  14th  of  January,  1806.  He  was  the  sev- 
enth of  nine  children.  His  parents  were  in  humble  circumstances, 
and  Matthew's  early  years  partook  of  the  rough  characteristics 
that  are  inseparable  from  the  experience  of  the  pioneer  families 
of  our  country.  When  he  was  only  four  years  of  age  his  parents 
migrated  to  the  State  of  Tennessee,  then  a  wild,  uncultivated  re- 
gion, full  of  delightful  scenery  and  hardy  promise  to  the  adven- 
turer. The  Maury  family  established  themselves  near  the  little 


52  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

village  of  Franklin,  where,  on  the  outskirts  of  civilization,  young 
Maury  grew  up  to  the  verge  of  manhood.  Under  such  circum- 
stances, his  educational  advantages  were  necessarily  slight,  and 
wholly  due  to  the  exertions  of  a  clergyman,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Otey, 
now  bishop  of  a  southern  diocese. 

Young  Maury's  first  and  most  enduring  passion  was  for  the  sea, 
and  when  his  parents  found  it  was  unconquerable,  they  wisely 
abandoned  their  opposition,  and  permitted  him  to  follow  it  as  a 
profession.  He  was  nineteen  years  of  age  (1825)  when  he  joined 
the  United  States  Navy  in  the  frigate  Brandy  wine,  then  a  new  and 
splendid  vessel,  commissioned  for  the  honorable  duty  of  conveying 
General  Lafayette  from  this  country  to  France,  and  with  orders 
to  undertake  a  subsequent  cruise  in  the  Mediterranean.  Maury 
was  midshipman  on  board  this  ship-of-war,  and  soon  became  re- 
markable for  the  quiet  skill  and  courage  with  which  he  discharged 
his  duties,  and  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he  applied  himself  to 
all  that  was  theoretical  or  scientific  in  his  profession.  It  is  said 
that  during  the  voyage  across  the  Atlantic  the  Brandywine  was 
overtaken  by  a  severe  storm.  A  scene  of  general  excitement  pre- 
vailed on  board ;  but  in  the  midst  of  the  fury  of  the  elements  and 
the  vociferous  bustle  of  his  companions,  Maury  was  discovered 
quietly  working  away  at  a  nautical  problem,  and  entirely  \incon- 
scious  of  aught  else. 

After  carrying  out  her  instructions  in  the  Mediterranean  the 
Brandywim  was  ordered  home,  to"  be  placed  under  the  broad 
pennant  of  Commodore  Jones.  Maury  returned  with  her,  and 
was  retained  in  active  service  under  the  new  commander.  The 
frigate  soon  sailed  for  the  Pacific.  The  little  midshipman  was 
still  bent  on  his  nautical  studies.  Some  curious  stories  of  his  de- 
votion, says  Mr.  Augustus  Maverick,  to  whom  we  are  largely  in- 
debted) are  rife  among  the  seamen  who  knew  Maury  at  this  time. 
It  was  one  of  his  rules,  to  which  he  adhered  inflexibly,  that  he 
would  never  allow  himself  to  be  idte,  but,  on  duty  or  off,  keep  his 
mind  actively  employed  in  some  way  or  other.  A  man-of-war  is 
not  the  best  place  in  the  world  for  the  indulgence  of  contemplative 
ways,  or  for  the  prosecution  of  studies  demanding  much  thought 
and  some  practical  demonstration.  The  only  chance  he  had  of 
being  perfectly  quiet  and  unmolested  was  while  he  was  on  watch. 
It  became  now  a  question  how  to  use  this  time  to  the  most  ad- 
vantage. He  hit  upon  a  plan  which  drove  the  old  gunner  of  the 


LIEUT.  MATTHEW  F.  MAURY.  53 

frigate  to  the  verge  of  despair.  It  was  this.  He  provided  him- 
self with  a  bit  of  chalk,  and  quietly  drew  on  the  cannon  balls  the 
problem  he  wanted  to  work  out.  Then  pacing  backward  and  for- 
ward with  his  mind  intent  on  it,  he  added  figure  to  figure  until 
the  demonstration  was  complete.  In  this  way  he  learned  with 
rapidity,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  his  future  fame.  The  old  gun- 
ner often  raved  at  the  troublesome  "  middy,"  who  covered  his  shot 
with  chalk-marks  ;  but  it  was  not  held  to  be  a  heinous  crime,  and 
no  hindrance  followed.  Two  and  a  half  years  passed  away  in 
this  manner,  the  young  student  applying  himself  closely,  and 
gaining  experience  and  wisdom  with  years.  At  the  end  of  this 
period,  while  still  cruising  in  the  Pacific,  he  was,  at  his  own  re- 
quest, transferred  to  the  U.  S.  sloop-of-war  Vincennes,  then  under 
orders  for  the  East  Indies. 

This  was  Mr.  Maury's  third  cruise  ;  it  proved  of  immense  serv- 
ice to  him.  It  enlarged  his  field  of  observation,  and  enabled  him 
so  far  to  verify  his  theories  of  navigation  that  he  felt  justified, 
upon  his  return  home,  in  putting  to  press  a  volume  comprising 
the  results  of  the  investigations  he  had  already  undertaken.  The 
entire  volume  was  written  on  shipboard. 

The  Vincennes  arrived  at  New  York  in  the  summer  of  1830, 
after  an  absence  of  four  years.  During  the  period  of  his  service 
on  board  Mr.  Maury  had  found  time  to  visit  the  South  Sea  Isl- 
ands, China,  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  St.  Helena,  and  other  points 
of  interest,  omitting  no  opportunity  of  adding  to  his  stock  of  in- 
formation. A  fourth  cruise  was  undertaken  soon  after  the  return 
of  the  Vincennes,  and  again  Mr.  Maury  found  himself  in  the  Pa- 
cific Ocean,  attached  as  acting  master  to  the  sloop-of-war  Fal- 
mouth.  Having  been  examined  for  promotion  before  leaving  port, 
his  qualifications  as  an  officer  were  admitted  and  subsequently 
fully  proved  during  his  term  of  service  on  board  this  vessel.  Pro- 
motion speedily  followed.  The  appointment  of  acting  lieutenant 
of  the  Falmouth  was  tendered  to  and  accepted  by  him,  and  he  con- 
tinued to  fill  this  post  until  transferred  by  Commodore  Downes 
to  the  Dolphin,  in  the  Pacific,  two  and  a  half  years  later.  Of  the 
Z>o^/«'«,Mr.  Maury  was  made  first  lieutenant.  The  commodore 
presently  transferred  him  to  the  flag-ship  Potomac,  on  board  of 
which  he  served  as  acting  lieutenant  until  her  return  to  the 
United  States.  This  cruise  occupied  three  and  a  half  years.  The 
opportunities  it  afforded  Mr.  Maury  he  was  not  slow  in  embrac- 


54  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ing.  A  mass  of  marine  statistics  was  collected  which  afterward 
proved  of  signal  service  to  him,  and  the  compilation  of  a  series 
of  nautical  tables  occupied  with  prolit  a  considerable  period.  The 
journals  of  experienced  navigators  whom  he  met  in  the  Pacilic 
were  carefully  examined  and  compared,  and  facts  deduced  from 
these  sources  of  information  and  his  own  observations  took  the 
form  of  a  record  of  reliable  results.  Mr.  Maury's  knowledge  of 
astronomical  science  also  led  him  to  a  series  of  investigations  in 
that  department  of  research,  with  a  view  to  correct  the  prevailing 
methods  of  observing  solar,  lunar,  and  stellar  distances.  He  con- 
trived an  instrument  which  was  calculated  to  give  the  true  meas- 
urement of  distance,  and  completed  a  model  of  it,  but,  on  applying 
to  the  Board  of  Navy  Commissioners  for  assistance  in  carrying 
out  the  experiment,  was  repulsed.  His  own  resources  being  in- 
adequate to  meet  the  necessary  expenditure,  the  project  failed,  and 
the  instrument  never  saw  the  light. 

In  the  year  1836,  when  thirty  years  of  age,  Mr.  Maury  received 
his  full  commission  as  lieutenant  in  the  navy.  The  appointment 
of  astronomer  and  assistant  hydrographer  of  the  United  States 
Exploring  Expedition  was  soon  afterward  tendered  to  him,  and 
was  at  first  accepted,  but  subsequently  declined.  About  this  pe- 
riod Lieutenant  Maury  became  interested  in  literary  pursuits. 
An  interesting  and  valuable  essay  on  the  Navigation  of  the  Pa- 
cific and  the  Doubling  of  Cape  Horn  appeared  from  his  pen  in 
the  pages  of  Sillitnan's  Journal;  and  an  article  published  soon  after, 
on  the  interests  of  Southern  Commerce,  attracted  attention.  In 
this  latter  production  Mr.  Maury  displayed  accurate  knowledge 
of  mercantile  regulations  and  observances,  and,  by  means  of  an 
elaborate  array  of  statistical  facts,  demonstrated  the  means  which 
were  to  impart  to  the  port  of  New  York  its  commercial  suprem- 
acy. He  showed  that  the  wealth  of  that  great  city  lay  chiefly  in 
her  lines  of  packets,  which,  by  bringing  her  into  active  connection 
and  competition  with  the  commercial  emporiums  of  other  nations, 
insured  at  once  her  rapid  growth,  and'a  financial  standing  second 
to  no  other  city.  Taking  this  stand-point  as  representative  of  the 
argument  he  wished  to  enforce,  Mr.  Maury  proceeded  to  discuss 
with  great  elaboration  the  commercial  advantages  of  the  South, 
which  was  the  material  point  of  his  article.  Mr.  Maury's  sym- 
pathies have  generally  been  with  the  South  in  all  its  enterprises, 
and  he  has  striven  with  voice  and  pen  to  encourage  the  interests 


LIEUT.  MATTHEW  F.  MAURY.  55 

and  develop  the  resources  of  that  section  of  the  Union.  This  ap- 
parent partiality  has  called  down  a  measure  of  condemnation  upon 
Mr.  Maury,  but  his  convictions  have  been  honest,  sincere,  and  are 
still  earnestly  pressed  when  opportunity  offers.  In  his  writings 
upon  these  subjects  Mr.  Maury  has  given  expression  to  his  belief 
that  the  energies  of  the  southern  portion  of  the  United  States,  if 
directed  with  enterprise,  prudence,  and  skill,  are  competent  to  ri- 
val the  business  capacities  of  the  North ;  and  while  he  has  not  fail- 
ed to  press  the  advantages  of  the  South  upon  the  people  of  that 
district  of  the  country,  he  has  not  forgotten  to  preserve  through- 
out a  tone  of  courtesy  and  consideration  that  has  added  a  fresh 
charm  to  the  native  grace  and  polish  of  his  diction.  For  a  num- 
ber of  years,  down  to  the  present  moment,  the  question  of  the  de- 
velopment of  southern  interests  has  been  a  favorite  one  with  him, 
a  marked  share  of  his  attentions  having  been  devoted  to  that 
branch  of  commerce  which  contemplates  the  establishment  of  a 
permanent  and  speedy  means  of  communication  between  the 
South  and  the  principal  ports  of  Europe. 

Turning  for  a  time  from  literary  avocations,  Mr.  Maury  was 
again  in  active  naval  service  until  the  early  part  of  1839.  He 
was  assigned  the  command  of  a  government  survey  steamer, 
and  was  detailed  to  prosecute  investigations  along  the  southern 
coast.  The  sickly  season  approaching,  this  labor  was  suspended. 
Being  comparatively  free,  Mr.  Maury  determined  to  avail  himself 
of  the  opportunity  to  visit  his  aged  parents,  still  residing  in  Ten- 
nessee. 

This  journey  was  destined  to  affect  the  entire  course  of  his  life 
in  a  melancholy  way.  The  stage-coach  in  which  he  was  travel- 
ing through  Ohio  met  with  an  accident  and  was  overturned. 
Among  the  passengers  who  received  serious  injuries  was  Mr.  Mau- 
ry. His  knee  was  fractured,  and  he  became  a  cripple  for  several 
months ;  indeed,  it  was  nearly  three  years  before  he  could  dis- 
pense with  the  use  of  crutches.  The  injury  was  a  permanent 
one,  and  sufficient  to  disable  him  for  active  service  4n  his  pro- 
fession. 

The  resources  of  a  man  of  thought  and  study  are  never  entirely 
dependent  on  a  single  accident  of  life.  To  be  torn  from  a  pro- 
fession which  he  loved  so  fervently  was  in  the  highest  degree  un- 
happy, but,  by  directing  his  thoughts  into  a  new  channel,  it  opened 
the  path  to  a  greatness  which  probably  could  not  have  been  accom- 


56  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

plished  amid  the  hardships  and  turmoil  of  a  sailor's  life.  No  man 
'in  the  country  knew  more  of  maritime  subjects  than  Mr.  Maury. 
He  determined  to  use  this  knowledge  for  the  benefit  of  the  public ; 
to  work  out  his  experience  and  observations  with  the  pen  and  the 
press. 

His  first  attempt  was  to  effect  a  reform  in  the  navy  of  the 
United  States,  by  pointing  out  the  evils  of  which  he  had  been  an 
attentive  observer.  A  series  of  articles  published  in  the  Southern 
Literary  Messenger  drew  public  attention  to  the  defects  of  the  serv- 
ice, and  the  facts  which  Mr.  Maury  adduced  as  occurring  under 
his  own  observation  led  to  an  animated  warfare  on  paper.  We 
have  not  space  to  recapitulate  the  arguments  which  were  employed 
in  the  course  of  this  controversy ;  it  is  sufficient  to  know  that  the 
attacks  of  Mr.  Maury  upon  naval  abuses  have  not  been  unattended 
by  useful  results.  The  title  he  gave  them  was  the  unique  one  of 
"  Scraps  from  the  Lucky  Bag." 

The  peculiar  channel  into  which  Mr.  Maury's  thoughts  have 
been  almost  exclusively  directed  of  late  years  was  suggested  to 
him  as  long  since  as  the  year  1831.  While  going  out  in  the  ca- 
pacity of  sailing-master  on  his  cruise  of  that  year,  he  was  struck 
with  the  fact  that  all  information  concerning  the  routes  from  the 
United  States  to  Cape  Horn  was  derived  chiefly  from  tradition, 
sailors  having  their  individual  theories,  and  captains  conglomer- 
ating the  scraps  of  nautical  wisdom  which  years  of  experience  at 
sea  had  developed.  Mr.  Maury  saw  in  this  a  field  for  the  display 
of  his  peculiar  characteristics.  His  observations  upon  the  tides 
and  currents  of  the  ocean  had  already  suggested  to  his  mind  the 
expediency  of  preparing  a  series  of  instructions  for  navigators ; 
and  the  manifest  ignorance  on  these  subjects  which  prevailed  at 
the  time,  even  among  seamen  the  most  celebrated  for  their  skill, 
led  him  to  put  his  thoughts  in  shape  for  the  benefit  of  the  service. 
The  "Wind  and  Current  Charts"  were  the  result  of  this  resolu- 
tion. Beginning  at  once,  he  presently  brought  his  scheme  into 
useful  activity.  He  commenced  by  collecting  from  all  practicable 
sources  the  log-books  of  vessels  which  had  accomplished  the  pas^ 
sage  around  Cape  Horn.  The  preparation  of  a  series  of  charts 
was  the  object  of  a  labored  and  minute  comparison  of 'results. 
This  work  is  yet  in  progress  (1858),  and,  when  completed,  will  no 
doubt  contribute  largely  to  the  high  fame  of  the  author. 

In  the  year  18 12  Mr.  Maury  was  placed  in  charge  of  the  hydro- 


LIEUT.  MATTHEW  F.  MAURY.  57 

graphical  department  of  the  American  Navy,  and  was  furnished 
with  a  great  amount  of  valuable  data  taken  from  the  old  log-books 
of  the  government  vessels.  No  one  can  apply  such  material  to 
better  purpose.  In  1844  he  became  the  superintendent  of  the  Na- 
tional Observatory  at  Washington,  and  holds  that  office  at  the  pres- 
ent time.  He  has  not  been  slow  to  improve  his  opportunities. 
From  time  to  time  new  charts  have  been  issued,  and,  under  instruc- 
tions from  this  department,  officers  of  the  naval  and  merchant  serv- 
ice regularly  transmit  to  the  Observatory  the  log  of  each  of  their 
outward  and  inward  voyages.  The  publication  of  the  "  Wind 
and  Current  Charts"  is  now  sanctioned  by  the  American  govern- 
ment, and  new  editions  of  Mr.  Maury's  "  Instructions  to  Naviga- 
tors" are  issued  at  short  intervals,  embodying  the  latest  results 
of  the  investigations  which  he  is  always  actively  prosecuting. 

The  practical  utility  of  Mr.  Maury's  system  having  been  fully 
established  in  Europe,  a  maritime  conference  was,  at  Mr.  Maury's 
suggestion,  held  at  Brussels  in  1853,  for  the  purpose  of  devising 
a  uniform  series  of  meteorological  observations  at  sea.  At  this 
conference  formulae  were  prepared,  which  are  now  generally  used 
by  vessels  under  all  flags. 

A  kindred  subject  to  which  Mr.  Maury's  attention  has  been 
directed  is  the  establishment  of  a  series  of  deep-sea  soundings. 
Growing  out  of  this  subject,  he  has  given  to  the  world  one  of  its 
most  remarkable  books,  "The  Physical  Geography  of  the  Sea."" 
Mr.  Maury  claims  to  have  demonstrated  the  much-talked-of  sub- 
Atlantic  Plateau,  which  is  said  to  be  available  for  the  use  of  a 
trans-Atlantic  telegraph.  This  position  has  not  been  allowed  to 
pass  without  incurring  severe  criticism.  Mr.  Maury  contends  for 
the  existence  of  an  elevation  or  ridge  at  the  bottom  of  the  Atlan- 
tic, extending  from  the  shore  of  Newfoundland  to  the  coast  of 
Ireland,  and  maintains,  of  course,  the  practicability  of  the  same  for 
the  purposes  mentioned. 

Mr.  Maury  has  led  and  still  leads  an  active  life.  His  leisure 
moments  have  been  devoted  to  the  popular  exposition  of  science 
in  the  lecture-room.  As  a  lecturer,  he  possesses  every  requisite 
to  enchain  an  audience,  and  a  rare  faculty  of  imparting  informa- 
tion in  a  ready  and  communicative  way.  He  is  looked  upon 
with  respect  and  admiration  by  a  larger  public  than. most  scien- 
tific men  can  call  their  own,  especially  on  a  speciality  such  as 
that  which  Mr.  Maury  has  made  his  peculiar  study.  Foreign 

C  2 


58  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

governments  have  acknowledged  the  value  and  importance  of  his 
contributions  to  nautical  science,  but,  in  conformity  with  the  reg- 
ulations of  the  navy,  which  forbid  the  officers  of  the  service  to  ac- 
cept complimentary  awards  from  other  powers,  Mr.  Maury  has 
declined  all  offers  of  the  kind.  The  last  tender  was  a  knighthood 
offered  by  the  King  of  Denmark,  with  expressions  of  the  most 
flattering  regard.  This  honor,  like  its  predecessors,  was  declined, 
and  Mr.  Maury  yet  continues  a  simple  lieutenant  in  the  Ameri- 
can Navy,  debarred  by  his  physical  incapacity  from  active  service, 
but  occupying,  with  undiminished  honor  and  usefulness,  his  post 
as  the  superintendent  of  the  National  Observatory. 


CHRISTIAN  GOTTLOB  HEYNE. 

MEN  of  great  learning  are  common  to  all  ages,  the  thirst  for 
knowledge  being  insatiable.  The  few  who  rise  to  pre-eminence 
have  this  fact  to  contend  with,  and,  ere  they  can  rise  to  distinc- 
tion, have  to  pass  a  critical  ordeal  which  can  not  be  over-esti- 
mated. An  author  by  an  inward  gift  reaches  the  goal  at  once, 
like  Burns.  All  the  learning  he  needs,  if  he  have  genius,  is  that 
which  teaches  him  to  express  his  thoughts  in  the  most  fluent  and 
natural  way.  A  scholar,  however,  needs  the  patient  talent  to  be- 
come learned,  and  when  he  has  achieved  this,  he  must  possess  force 
to  carry  him  past  the  great  learning  of  his  greatest  contempora- 
ries, or  he  gains  but  a  share  of  their  general  reputation.  One 
who  did  this  was  Christian  Gottlob  Heyne,  the  greatest  classical 
scholar  of  his  age.  Mr.  Heyne  was  the  son  of  a  poor  linen-weaver 
of  Silesia,  a  district  long  and  chronically  affected  with  poverty. 
He  was  born  at  Chemnitz,  in  Saxony,  on  the  25th  of  September, 
1729,  in  the  midst  of  the  saddest  indigence.  A  large  family  were 
dependent  on  the  exertions  of  the  father,  and,  in  spite  of  his  ex- 
ertions, often  needed  food.  Want  was  the  earliest  companion  of 
his  childhood.  "  I  well  remember,"  he  says,  in  the  Memoirs  of 
his  own  Life,  "  the  painful  impression  made  on  my  mind  by  wit- 
nessing the  distress  of  my  mother  when  without  food  for  her  chil- 
dren. How  often  have  I  seen  her  on  a  Saturday  evening  weeping 
and  wringing  her  hands,  as  she  returned  home  from  an  unsuccess- 
ful effort  to  sell  the  goods  which  the  daily  and  nightly  toil  of  my 
father  had  manufactured." 

Notwithstanding  this  lowly  condition,  young  Christian  was  sent 
to  school,  and  with  unusual  rapidity  acquired  the  little  learning 
within  his  reach.  Before  his  tenth  year  he  had  made  himself 
master  of  all  that  could  be  taught,  and  was  able  to  pay  a  portion 
of  his  school-fees  in  teaching  younger  members  of  the  seminary. 
He  displayed  his  passion  for  the  classics  at  this  time  by  a  craving 
desire  to  learn  Latin,  and  made  an  arrangement  with  the  school- 
master's son,  who  had  studied  at  Leipsic,  to  do  so,  at  the  rate  of 
fourpence  a  week.  This  enormous  remuneration  was  the  subject 


(JO  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

of  much  agitation  to  him.  At  first  it  seemed  an  impossible  sum 
to  raise,  and  he  almost  gave  up  in  despair.  One  day  he  was  sent 
to  procure  a  loaf  of  bread  from  his  godfather,  who  was  a  baker. 
As  he  trudged  along,  he  thought  sadly  of  the  great  project,  and 
he  wept  at  the  disappointment  which  seemed  inevitable.  The 
baker  was  a  good-tempered  man,  and  he  was  quite  affected  by  the 
tears  of  the  boy.  He  inquired  the  cause  of  his  distress,  and  when 
poor  little  Heyne  sobbed  out  that  it  was  because  he  could  not  af- 
ford fourpence  a  week  to  take  lessons  in  Latin,  his  godfather  pat- 
ted him  on  the  head,  and  made  him  glad  and  happy  by  promising 
to  defray  the  ruinous  fee.  Heyne  tells  us  that  he  was  perfectly 
intoxicated  with  joy ;  and  as  he  ran,  all  ragged  and  barefoot, 
through  the  streets,  tossing  the  loaf  in  the  air,  it  slipped  from  his 
hands  and  rolled  into  the  gutter.  This  accident  was  attended 
with  a  sharp  reprimand  at  home,  and  brought  the  young  enthu- 
siast to  his  senses.  He  immediately  commenced  taking  lessons, 
however,  and  in  less  than  two  years  had  completely  exhausted  the 
classic  resources  of  his  instructor. 

It  seemed  probable  at  this  time  that  Heyne  must  abandon 
his  studies  for  the  more  irksome  duties  of  the  world.  His  fa- 
ther had  already  made  arrangements  for  placing  him  at  a  trade, 
when,  fortunately,  another  godfather  of  the  boy,  a  clergyman, 
agreed  to  bear  the  expense  of  continuing  his  education  at  the 
principal  seminary  of  his  native  town  of  Chemnitz.  His  new  pa- 
tron, although  a  plethoric  churchman,  was  decidedly  stingy,  and 
doled  out  his  bounty  with  such  an  unwilling  hand,  that  Heyne 
was  frequently  put  to  great  straits  to  obtain  the  necessary  books 
for  study.  After  a  little  while,  however,  he  obtained  the  situa- 
tion of  private  tutor  in  the  family  of  a  citizen,  and  the  stipend  he 
received  for  this  addition  to  his  labors  enabled  him  to  become  less 
dependent  on  his  godfather. 

Heyne  was  determined  to  continue  his  studies  at  the  Universi- 
ty, and  for  this  purpose  resolved  to  go  to  Leipsic.  He  arrived  in 
that  city  of  learning  and  literature,  having  his  whole  fortune,  con- 
sisting of  two  florins,  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  nothing  else  to 
depend  upon  except  the  small  assistance  he  might  receive  from 
his  godfather,  who  had  reluctantly  promised  to  continue  his  boun- 
ty. He  had  to  wait  so  long,  however,  for  his  expected  supplies 
from  this  source,  which  were  accompanied  with  much  grudging 
and  reproach  when  they  did  make  their  appearance,  that,  desti- 


CHRISTIAN  GOTTLOB  HEYNE.  61 

tute  of  both  money  and  books,  he  would  even  have  been  without 
bread  too,  had  it  not  been  for  the  compassion  of  the  maid-servant 
of  the  house  where  he  lodged.  What  sustained  his  courage  in 
these  circumstances  was  neither  ambition  nor  presumption,  nor 
even  the  hope  of  one  day  taking  his  place  among  the  learned. 
The  stimulus  that  incessantly  spurred  him  on  was  the  feeling  of 
the  humiliation  of  his  condition  ;  the  shame  with  which  he  shrank 
from  the  thought  of  that  degradation  which  the  want  of  a  good 
education  would  impose  upon  him ;  above  all,  the  determined  res- 
olution of  battling  courageously  with  Fortune.  He  was  resolved 
to  try,  he  said,  whether,  although  she  had  thrown  him  among  the 
dust,  he  should  not  be  able  to  rise  up  by  his  own  efforts.  With 
an  ambition  so  worthy,  the  difficulties  that  sprung  up  in  his  path 
were  unheeded,  or  served  but  to  increase  his  natural  ardor  and 
determination.  The  unremitting  application  to  study  which  char- 
acterized his  life  at  this  epoch  may  be  judged  from  the  fact  that 
for  six  months  he  only  allowed  himself  two  nights'  sleep  in  the 
week ;  yet,  while  he  was  bending  all  energies  to  the  great  pur- 
pose of  his  life,  he  received  nothing  but  reproaches  from  his  god- 
father, who  often  directed  his  letters  to  "  Mr.  Heyne,  Idler,  at 
Leipsic." 

While  at  Leipsic  he  had  an  opportunity  to  escape  the  intoler- 
able and  oppressive  poverty  of  his  position.  A  situation  was  of- 
fered him  as  private  tutor  in  a  family  in  Magdeburg.  It  was  in 
every  way  an  enviable  offer,  but  its  acceptance  involved  one  im- 
mense sacrifice :  he  must  leave  Leipsic  and  abandon  his  studies. 
He  soon  determined  not  to  do  so,  and  decided  in  favor  of  pover- 
ty and  Leipsic.  It  was  a  noble  self-sacrifice,  and  met  with  its 
reward.  In  a  few  weeks  he  obtained  a  situation,  similar  to  the 
one  he  had  refused,  in  the  University  town.  For  a  time  he  en- 
joyed comparative  prosperity,  and  studied  and  labored  without 
his  most-time  companion,  Want.  But  he  worked  too  hard,  and 
brought  on  a  dangerous  illness.  He  had  to  resign  his  situation, 
and  what  little  funds  he  had  were  scattered  in  doctors'  potions 
and  nurses'  fees.  When  he  recovered  he  found  himself  poor,  and 
destitute,  and  weak,  with  few  friends,  and  no  influence  to  thrust 
him  forward  in  the  world.  There  is  a  Divine  eye  which  never 
sleeps  on  the  deserving.  A  copy  of  Latin  verses  which  Heyne 
had  written  accidentally  fell  into  the  hands  of  one  of  the  minis- 
ters of  the  court  of  Saxony,  who  advised  the  author  to  repair  to 


62  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

the  court  at  Dresden.  The  advice,  coming  from  a  minister  in 
power,  was  considered  highly  promising,  and  almost  certain  to 
lead  to  fortune.  Heyne  borrowed  a  small  sum  to  defray  his  ex- 
penses, and  started  for  the  land  of  promise.  Arrived  at  Dresden, 
he  made  the  most  of  his  introduction,  but  soon  discovered  that 
ministers'  promises  were  not  to  be  relied-  on.  He  received  a  few 
unproductive  compliments,  and  was  graciously  permitted  to  starve. 
He  subsisted  on  his  books  as  long  as  they  lasted,  and  was  then 
obliged  to  accept  the  place  of  copyist  in  the  library  of  the  Count 
de  Bruhl,  at  the  miserable  annual  salary  of  eighty  dollars ;  a  sum 
which,  even  in  that  cheap  country,  was  scarcely  sufficient  to  keep 
him  from  perishing  of  hunger.  After  he  had  held  this  situation 
for  above  two  years,  his  salary  was  doubled ;  but,  before  he  de- 
rived any  benefit  from  the  augmentation,  the  Seven  Years'  War 
had  commenced.  Saxony  was  overrun  with  the  forces  of  Fred- 
erick the  Great,  and  Heyne's  place,  and  the  library  itself,  to  which 
it  was  attached,  were  swept  away  at  the  same  time.  He  was 
obliged  to  fly  from  Dresden,  and  wandered  about  for  a  long  time 
without  any  employment.  At  last  he  was  received  into  a  family 
at  Wittenberg ;  but  in  a  short  time  the  progress  of  the  war  drove 
him  from  this  asylum  also,  and  he  returned  to  Dresden,  where 
he  still  had  a  few  articles  of  furniture,  purchased  with  the  little 
money  saved  while  he  held  his  place  in  the  Horary.  He  arrived 
just  in  time  to  witness  the  bombardment  of  that  capital,  in  the 
conflagration  of  which  his  furniture  perished,  as  well  as  some  prop- 
erty which  he  had  brought  with  him  from  Wittenberg,  belonging 
to  a  lady,  one  of  the  family  in  whose  house  he  lived,  and  for 
whom  he  had  formed  an  attachment  during  his  residence  there. 
Two  young  people  were  thus  thrown  on  the  world  without  a  dol- 
lar to  save  them  from  want.  At  a  moment  so  critical,  they  de- 
termined to  unite  their  fortunes,  on  the  Irish  principle  which  ad- 
vises that, -when  you  are  very  poor,  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to 
marry.  They  were  married,  and,  by  the  exertions  of  some  com- 
mon friends,  a  retreat  was  procured  for  Heyne  and  his  wife  in  the 
establishment  of  a  M.  de  Leoben,  where  he  spent  some  years,  dur- 
ing which  time  he  was  principally  occupied  in  the  management  of 
that  gentleman's  property. 

When  peace  was  declared  (1763)  Heyne  returned  to  Dresden. 
His  hard  fortunes  were  soon  to  be  brought  to  an  end.  During 
his  absence,  the  Professorship  of  Eloquence  in  the  University  of 


CHRISTIAN  GOTTLOB  HEYNK.  63 

Gbttingen  had  become  vacant  by  the  death  of  John  Mathias  Ges- 
ner.  Heyne  was  proposed  for  the  chair  by  Ruhnken,  a  Greek 
critic  of  distinction,  and  a  man  who  knew  thoroughly  the  value 
of  Heyne's  acquirements.  He  received  the  appointment  (1763), 
and  held  the  professorship  until  the  day  of  his  death,  which  hap- 
pened by  apoplexy  in  1812.  No  man  living  ever  threw  a  bright- 
er lustre  on  an  institution  of  learning  than  Heyne  on  the  Univer- 
sity of  Gottingen.  He  maintained  its  reputation  with  his  pen  and 
with  his  eloquence.  The  department  to  which  he  specially  ap- 
plied himself  was  the  critical  interpretation  of  classic  literature 
and  the  illustration  of  the  writing  of  the  ancients,  by  showing  how 
they  ought  to  be  studied  with  reference  to  the  manners  and  char- 
acters of  their  respective  ages.  Heyne  published  his  views  on 
these  subjects  in  his  notes  to  the  "  Bibliotheca"  of  Apollodorus, 
and- afterward  in  the  "  Transactions"  of  the  University.  He  has 
many  disciples  of  great  eminence. 

Heyne  was  an  extremely  industrious  man,  and  edited  a  great 
variety  of  classic  works,  all  of  which  are  extremely  valuable  for 
the  erudition  and  just  criticism  displayed  in  the  notes  and  com- 
mentaries. An  interesting  and  lengthy  memoir  of  the  early  life 
of  this  celebrated  man  has  been  written  by  his  son-in-law. 


x 


EOBEET  BURNS. 

ROBERT  BURNS,  the  pride  of  Scotland,  and  one  of  the  most  ex- 
traordinary poets  the  world  has  ever  produced,  was  born  in  a 
rickety  little  hovel  on  the  banks  of  the  Doon,  near  Ayr,  Scolland, 
on  the  25th  of  January,  1759.  His  father  was  a  man  of  superior 
abilities,  of  marked  piety,  and  of  some  acquaintance  with  litera- 
ture. His  skill,  however,  did  not  extend  to  architecture,  for  the 
building  in  which  they  lived,  erected  by  his  hands,  tumbled  down 
two  or  three  days  after  Robert  was  born.  The  mother  and  child 
were  conveyed,  through  a  fierce  snow-storm,  to  a  neighbor's  cot- 
tage. Burns,  in  after-life,  described  his  mother  as  "  a  very  saga- 
cious woman,  without  forwardness  or  awkwardness  of  manner." 
Unlike  most  men  of  eminence,  he  owed  more  to  his  father  than 
his  mother  in  the  elements  of  his  character.  Especially  did  ho 
inherit  "the  headlong,  ungovernable  irascibility  and  ungainly  in- 
tegrity" of  Mr.  Burns. 

When  about  six  years  of  age,  the  poet  and  his  family  removed 
to  the  parish  of  Ayr,  hoping  that  they  would  be  able  to  improve 
their  circumstances  by  the  change.  But  the  new  farm  was  no  less 


ROBERT  BURNS.  65 

sterile  than  the  old  one.  After  struggling  with  the  most  destitute 
circumstances  until  1772,  Mr.  Burns  and  his  family  were  driven 
from  the  place,  and  found  refuge  at  Lochlea.  Better  times  await- 
ed them  here,  and  for  a  while  things  went  on  prosperously.  Mr. 
Burns's  two  sons,  Gilbert  and  Robert,  were  sent  to  school.  The 
schoolmaster  thus  describes  his  pupils  at  this  time  :  "  Gilbert,"  he 
says,  "  always  appeared  to  me  to  possess  a  more  lively  imagina- 
tion, and  to  be  more  the  wit  than  Robert.  I  attempted  to  teach 
them  a  little  church  music :  here  they  were  left  far  behind  by  all 
the  rest  of  the  school.  Robert's  ear,  in  particular,  was  remark- 
ably dull,  and  his  voice  untunable.  It  was  long  before  I  could 
get  them  to  distinguish  one  tune  from  another.  Robert's  counte- 
nance was  generally  grave,  and  expressive  of  a  serious,  contem- 
plative, and  thoughtful  mind.  Gilbert's  face  said,  'Mirth,  with 
thee  I  mean  to  live ;'  and  certainly,  if  any  person  who  knew  the 
two  boys  had  been  asked  which  of  them  was  the  most  likely  to 
court  the  Muses,  he  would  never  have  guessed  that  Robert  had  a 
propensity  of  that  kind."  The  worthy  schoolmaster  entertained 
the  popular  idea  that  a  man  of  a  literary  turn  of  mind  ought  to 
look  books  and  speak  books  from  his  earliest  infancy. 

At  the  grammar-school  of  Ayr  Robert  and  his  brother  studied 
"  week  about,"  and  in  the  winter  evenings  their  father  gave  them 
what  instruction  he  had  at  his  disposal.  Both  boys  assisted  on 
the  farm,  and  Robert  describes  himself  as  a  dexterous  plowman. 
The  most  rigid  economy  had  to  be  exercised  in  the  little  home- 
stead. Butcher's  meat  was  unknown  at  the  table,  and  all  the 
members  of  the  family  exerted  themselves  to  the  utmost  of  their 
strength,  and  sometimes  a  little  beyond  it,  in  the  labors  of  the 
farm.  There  were  an  aged  couple  and  seven  children  to  be  sup- 
ported off  its  ungenerous  soil. 

Robert  studied  easily,  and  read  with  avidity  all  the  books  that 
came  within  his  reach.-  "In  my  seventeenth  year,"  says  Burns, 
"  to  give  my  manners  a  brush,  I  went  to  a  country  dancing-school. 
My  father  had  an  unaccountable  antipathy  against  these  meetings, 
and  my  going  was,  what  to  this  moment  I  repent,  in  opposition  to 
his  wishes.  My  father  was  subject  to  strong  passions.  From 
that  instance  of  disobedience  in  me  he  took  a  sort  of  dislike  to 
me,  which  I  believe  was  one  cause  of  the  dissipation  which  mark- 
ed my  succeeding  years.  I  say  dissipation,  comparatively  with 
the  strictness,  and  sobriety,  and  regularity  of  Presbyterian  coun- 


66  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

try  life  ;  for,  though  the  will-o'-wisp  meteors  of  thoughtless  whim 
were  almost  the  sole  lights  of  my  path,  yet  early  ingrained  piety 
and  virtue  kept  me  for  several  years  afterward  within  the  line  of 
innocence.  The  great  misfortune  of  my  life  was  to  want  an  aim. 
I  saw  my  father's  situation  entailed  on  me  perpetual  labor.  The 
only  two  openings  by  which  I  could  enter  the  temple  of  Fortune 
were  the  gates  of  niggardly  economy,  or  the  path  of  little  chican- 
ing bargain-making.  The  first  is  so  contracted  an  aperture  I 
could  never  squeeze  myself  into  it.  The  last  I  always  hated — 
there  was  contamination  in  the  very  entrance  !  Thus,  abandoned 
of  aim  or  view  in  life,  with  a  strong  appetite  for  sociability,  as 
well  from  native  hilarity  as  from  a  pride  of  observation  and  re- 
mark ;  a  constitutional  melancholy  or  hypochondriacism  that  made 
me  fly  solitude ;  add  to  these  incentives,  to  social  life  my  reputa- 
tion for  bookish  knowledge,  a  certain  wild  logical  talent,  and  a 
strength  of 'thought  something  like  the  rudiments  of  good  sense, 
and  it  will  not  seem  surprising  that  I  was  generally  a  welcome 
guest  where  I  visited,  or  any  great  wonder  that  always,  where 
two  or  three  met  together,  there  was  I  among  them.  But  far  be- 
yond all  other  impulses  of  my  heart  was  un  penchant  pour  Vado- 
rable  moitie  du  genre  humain.  My  heart  was  completely  tinder,  and 
was  eternally  lighted  up  by  some  goddess  or  other;  and,  as  in 
every  other  warfare  in  the  world,  my  fortune  was  various  :  some- 
times I  was  received  with  favor,  and  sometimes  I  was  mortified 
with  a  repulse.  At  the  plow,  scythe,  or  reap-hook  I  feared  no 
competitor,  and  thus  I  set  absolute  want  at  defiance ;  and  as  I 
never  cared  farther  for  my  labors  than  while  I  was  in  actual  ex- 
ercise, I  spent  the  evenings  in  the  way  after  my  own  heart.  A 
country  lad  seldom  carries  on  a  love  adventure  without  an  assist- 
ing confidant.  I  possessed  a  curiosity,  zeal,  and  intrepid  dexter- 
ity that  recommended  me  as  a  proper  second  on  these  occasions, 
and  I  dare  say  I  felt  as  much  pleasure  in  being  in  the  secret  of 
half  the  loves  of  the  parish  of  Tarbolton  as  ever  did  statesman  in 
knowing  the  intrigues  of  half  the  courts  of  Europe." 

When  in  his  nineteenth  year  Burns  spent  some  months  in  learn- 
ing mensuration  and  surveying  at  a  school  at  Kirkoswald,  with  the 
object  of  following  the  profession  of  land  surveyor.  The  society 
in  which  he  found  himself  was  not  calculated  to  improve  the  tend- 
ency of  his  mind  to  dissipation.  The  smugglers  of  the  neighbor- 
hood found  a  boon  companion,  and  Burns,  as  he  expressed  himself, 


ROBERT  BURNS.  67 

observed  "a  new  phase  of  life."  He  found  time,  however,  to  pur- 
sue his  study  of  English  literature,  and  to  commence  a  literary 
correspondence  with  some  of  his  schoolfellows.  In  this  manner 
his  life  glided  away  until  he  had  reached  his  twenty-third  year. 
He  had  already  composed  one  or  two  poetical  pieces,  occasioned 
by  some  circumstance  of  local  importance.  Now  he  began  to  feel 
a  necessity  for  verse.  His  passions,  which  were  always  strong, 
raged  furiously  until  they  found  vent  in  rhyme. 

In  1781  Burns  went  to  Irvine  to  learn  the  trade  of  a  flax- 
dresser.  A  fire  broke  out  in  the  shop,  and  destroyed  every  thing, 
including  Burns's  little  all.  This  event  put  an  end  to  a  matri- 
monial engagement  into  which  the  poet  had  entered,  and  exercised 
a  depressing  influence  on  his  mind.  His  visit  to  Irvine  was  in 
other  respects  unfortunate.  It  threw  him  into  the  society  of  men 
who  did  not  scruple  to  applaud  the  budding  viciousness  of  the 
young  man.  His  father  died  at  a  time  when  he  could  be  least 
spared,  and  Burns,  with  very  wild  and  uncertain  ideas,  repaired 
to  the  farm  at  Mossgiel,  to  assume,  with  his  brother  Gilbert,  its 
cultivation.  The  fame  he  acquired  in  the  neighborhood  about 
this  time  was  due  to  his  poetic  achievements  rather  than  those 
of  agriculture.  Some  additional  notoriety  was  obtained  in  a  less 
creditable  way,  arising  from  the  laxity  of  morals  which  resulted 
from  his  sojourn  at  Irvine.  The  bad  odor  in  which  he  found  him- 
self suggested  to  his  mind  the  advisability  of  leaving  the  country. 
He  had  for  some  time  expressed  a  desire  to  go  to  the  West  Indies, 
and  would  undoubtedly  have  taken  his  departure  if  the  state  of  his 
finances  had  allowed  him  to  do  so.  In  this  dilemma  he  resolved 
to  try  his  luck  with  a  volume  of  poems.  His  friends  encouraged 
the  idea,  and  a  number  of  subscribers  were  readily  obtained.  In  a 
letter  to  one  of  his  friends,  dated  the  12th  of  June,  1786,  he  says: 
"You  will  have  heard  that  I  am  going  to  commence  a  poet  in 
print,  and  to-morrow  my  works  go  to  press.  I  expect  it  will  be 
a  volume  of  about  two  hundred  pages.  It  is  just  the  last  foolish 
action  I  intend  to  do,  and  then  turn  a  wise  man  as  fast  as  possible" 
The  poet  also  describes  his  feelings  in  another  place.  "  Before 
leaving  my  native  land,  I  resolved  to  publish  my  poems.  I  weighed 
my  productions  as  impartially  as  was  in  my  power :  I  thought  they 
had  merit ;  and  it  was  a  delicious  idea  that  I  should  be  called  a 
clever  fellow,  even  though  it  should  never  reach  my  ears,  a  poor 
negro-driver,  or  perhaps  a  victim  to  that  inhospitable  clime,  and 


68  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

gone  to  the  world  of  spirits.  I  can  truly  say  that,  pauvre  inconnu 
as  I  then  was,  I  had  pretty  nearly  as  high  an  idea  of  myself  and 
of  my  works  as  I  have  at  this  moment,  when  the  public  has  decided 
in  their  favor.  It  ever  was  my  opinion  that  the  mistakes  and 
blunders,  both  in  a  rational  and  religious  point  of  view,  of  which 
we  see  thousands  daily  guilty,  are  owing  to  their  ignorance  of 
themselves.  To  know  myself  had  been  all  along  my  constant 
study.  *I  weighed  myself  alone  ;  I  balanced  myself  with  others  : 
I  watched  every  means  of  information,  to  see  how  much  ground  I 
occupied  as  a  man  and  as  a  poet ;  I  studied  assiduously  Nature's 
design  in  my  formation — where  the  lights  and  shades  in  character 
were  intended.  I  was  pretty  confident  my  poems  would  meet  with 
some  applause  ;  but,  at  the  worst,  the  roar  of  the  Atlantic  would 
deafen  the  voice  of  censure,  and  the  novelty  of  West  Indian  scenes 
make  me  forget  neglect.  I  threw  off  six  hundred  copies,  for  which 
I  got  a  subscription  for  about  three  hundred  and  fifty.  My  vanity 
was  highly  gratified  by  the  reception  I  met  with  from  the  public  ; 
and  besides,  I  pocketed,  all  expenses  deducted,  nearly  twenty 
pounds.  This  sum  came  very  seasonably,  as  I  was  thinking  of 
indenting  myself,  for  want  of  money  to  procure  my  passage.  As 
soon  as  I  was  master  of  nine  guineas,  the  price  of  wafting  me  to 
the  torrid  zone,  I  took  a  steerage  passage  in  the  first  ship  that 
was  to  sail  from  the  Clyde ;  for 

"  'Hungry  ruin  had  me  in  the  wind.' 

I  had  been  for  some  days  skulking  from  covert  to  covert,  under 
all  the  terrors  of  a  jail,  as  some  ill-advised  people  had  uncoupled 
the  merciless  pack  of  the  law  at  my  heels.  I  had  taken  the  last 
farewell  of  my  few  friends ;  my  chest  was  on  the  way  to  Greenock ; 
I  had  composed  the  last  song  I  should  ever  measure  in  Caledonia, 
'The  gloomy  night  is  gathering  fast,'  when  a  letter  from  Dr. 
Blacklock  to  a  friend  .of  mine  overthrew  all  my  schemes  by  open- 
ing new  prospects  to  my  poetic  ambition." 

The  history  of  literature  does  not  afford  another  instance  of 
such  extraordinary  popularity  as  was  obtained  by  Burns  imme- 
diately on  the  appearance  of  this  volume.  All  thoughts  of  the 
West  Indies  were  immediately  abandoned  in  the  necessary  prep- 
arations for  a  second  edition.  This,  on  its  appearance,  had  an 
enormous  sale,  and  realized  quite  a  little  fortune  to  the  author. 
It  was  read  extensively  by  all  classes  of  the  community,  and  was 


ROIJEKT  BUUNS.  69 

as  heartily  commended  by  the  learned  as  by  the  illiterate.  In 
Edinburgh  he  was  received  in  the  most  enthusiastic  manner  by 
persons  of  eminence  in  the  social  and  literary  worlds.  He  passed 
at  one  step  from  the  cottage  to  the  palace.  The  peasant-boy  be- 
came the  associate  of  noblemen,  and  the  "lion"  of  the  fashionable 
world. 

•The  profits  arising  from  this  second  edition  of  his  works  amount- 
ed to  upward  of  £500.  After  assisting  his  brother  with  £200  to 
get  him  out  of  some  difficulties,  he  bade  farewell  to  the  Scottish 
capital,  the  brilliant  society  of  which  did  not  agree  with  his  rude 
notions  of  jollity,  and  took  a  series  of  tours  through  Scotland  as 
a  professed  "rustic  bard"  and  man  of  genius,  writing  diaries  and 
letters,  scratching  impromptu  verses  on  the  windows  of  inns  and 
taverns,  and  inditing  passionate  love-strains  to  ladies  and  damsels 
of  every  degree  with  whom  he  had  the  slightest  possible  acquaint- 
ance. After  spending  three  months  in  this  erratic  way,  he  mar- 
ried Jean  Armour,  a  peasant-girl  whom  he  had  wronged,  and 
leased  a  farm  on  the  banks  of  the  Nith,  near  Dumfries,  with  the 
intention  of  once  more  following  agriculture  as  a  profession. 

In  August,  1789,  he  entered  the  excise,  with  the  object  of  eking 
out  an  insufficient  income.  It  was  an  unfortunate  step,  for  he, 
of  all  men,  was  least  able  to  resist  temptation.  The  farm  was 
more  and  more  neglected.  At  last  he  relinquished  it  altogether, 
and  became  a  regular  exciseman,  with  an  income  of  £70  per  year. 
To  this  profession  he  remained  faithful  for  about  five  years,  re- 
siding in  Dumfries  until  the  time  of  his  death,  which/  happened 
on  the  21st  of  July,  1796.  He  was  never  in  actual  want,  but  his 
circumstances  were  often  of  the  narrowest,  arising  in  a  great 
measure  from  his  extravagance,  and  unpardonable  habits  of  dissi- 
pation. Subscriptions  were  entered  into  for  the  benefit  of  Burns' s 
Avidow,  and  for  the  erection  of  monuments  in  various  localities  to 
the  poet's  memory. 

The  life  of  Kobert  Burns  does  not  furnish  an  example,  but  a 
warning.  A  man  of  the  most  unquestionable  genius,  he  lived 
and  died  in  an  obscurity  which  might,  without  doubt,  have  been 
averted,  if  his  habits  and  inclinations  had  been  different  to  what 
they  were.  By  study  and  patient  effort  he  succeeded  in  raising 
himself  far  above  the  station  in  which  nature  had  placed  him. 
He  asserted  to  the  world,  and  the  world  recognized,  his  genius. 
Without  waiting  wearisome  years  for  the  tardy  verdict  of  the 


70  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

public,  it  was  pronounced  instantly,  and  in  his  favor.  In  a  few 
months  he  became  the  idol  of  a  large  community.  Men  of  vast 
acquirements  in  the  realms  of  knowledge,  and  men  of  rank, 
wealth,  and  refinement,  instantly  recognized  him  as  an  equal,  and 
even  more  than  an  equal.  He  went  among  them  for  a  short 
time,  but  confirmed  habits  of  inebriety  and  coarse  enjoyment  ren- 
dered him  incapable  of  appreciating  their  society.  Conscious  'of 
Ids  weaknesses,  although  unable  to  combat  them,  he  became  sus- 
picious of  courtesy,  and  willfully  stubborn.  Dragged  down  to  the 
lowest  level  of  his  boon  companions,  he  forgot  the  respect  that 
Avas  due  to  himself  and  to  the  genius  with  which  God  had  in- 
trusted him.  He  fancied  that  every  one  saw  his  defects,  and,  in 
consequence,  became  irritable,  imagining  that  it  was  poverty  that 
£ave  him-  irritation,  and  not  viciousness.  He  hated  patronage 
with  a  manliness  that  was  worthy  of  all  admiration,  but  he  blun- 
dered constantly  in  always  imagining  that  kindness  and  appreci- 
ation were  intended  as  patronage.  Incensed  with  these  mistaken 
ideas,  he  plunged  once  more  into  idle  dissipation — into  the  society 
of  men  who  revered  him,  perhaps,  but  who  were  incapable  of  es- 
timating his  real  worth.  Thrust  back  into  the  sorry  habits  of 
his  old  life,  he  lost  his  opportunity,  and  squandered  his  best  days 
in  an  unheroic  struggle  with  poverty.  Had  he  pursued  a  different 
policy  he  would  have  lived  in  affluent  ease,  and  produced  works 
worthy  of  the  extraordinary  genius  he  possessed. 


GEORGE    FOX. 

A  REMARKABLE  man,  thoroughly  antagonistic  to  the  age  in 
which  he  lived,  and  bestowing  on  it  an  enduring  virtue,  was 
George  Fox,  founder  of  the  society  of  Friends,  commonly  called 
the  "Quakers."  He  was  the  son  of  a  weaver,  and  first  saw  the 
light  (July,  1624)  in  the  town  of  Drayton,  Leicestershire,  England, 
where  his  father  was  widely  known  and  respected  for  his  upright- 
ness and  integrity.  These  traits  were  so  willingly  recognized 
that  he  was  known  in  the  neighborhood  as  "righteous  Christer." 
His  mother  was  a  woman  of  unusual  intelligence,  simple  and  pious 
in  her  habits,  and  tenderly  good  in  all  her  actions. 

The  paternal  Fox  was  a  man  well  read  in  the  Scriptures,  and 
delighted  to  instill  into  the  youthful  mind  of  his  son  the  truths  of 
revealed  religion.  Under  this  pious  instructor,  the  lad  grew  up 
in  physical  and  moral  *rength.  Of  regular  education  he  had  but 
little — not  more  than  could  be  readily  obtained  at  the  adjacent 
schools — nor  in  after-life  did  he  display  any  eager  thirst  for  knowl- 
edge. Of  a  remarkably  vigorous  mind,  he  found  ample  employ- 
ment in  digesting  the  information  which  lay  within  his  immediate 
reach. 

For  several  years  young  Fox  followed  the  business  of  a  grazier, 
and  found  much  consolation  in  the  solitude  which  it  afforded.  It 
is  said  that  he  passed  days  in  the  hollow  of  an  old  tree  medi- 
tating on  religious  subjects,  and  revolving  with  enthusiasm  a  life 
of  moral  purity.  According  to  Neal,  he  afterward  became  a  shoe- 
maker— a  business  also  fitted  for  his  contemplative  habits.  He 
was  remarkably  steady  and  exact,  had  no  relish  for  the  sports  and 
gayeiies  of  youth,  and  resisted  pleasure  with  a  firmness  which  was 
curious  as  it  was  sincere.  The  wickedness  of  the  times  troubled 
him  by  night  and  by  day.  So  convinced  was  he  of  its  pernicious- 
ness,  that,  when  only  nineteen  years  of  age,  he  resolved  to  break 
off  all  commerce  with  the  world  and  its  vanities.  In  simple  pil- 
grim costume  he  started  from  home,  and  traveled  through  various 
portions  of  the  country  seeking  out  persons  who  were  most  famous 
for  devotion,  that  he  might  gain  consolation  for  his  perturbed  spirit. 
Such  a  pilgrim,  in  such  times,  was  not  likely  to  be  understood,  and 


72  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

his  journey  was  in  vain  ;  but  in  all  disappointments  he  was  sus- 
tained by  a  belief,  which  he  cherished  to  the  end  of  his  life,  that 
he  had  received  a  special  call  from  above  to  become  a  minister  of 
reformation  to  the  world.  Whenever  he  met  with  a  difficulty,  he 
had  an  "opening"  which  revealed  to  him  the  course  he  should 
pursue.  "When  I  had  openings,"  he  says,  "they  answered  one 
another,  and  answered  the  Scriptures  ;  for  I  had  great  openings 
of  the  Scriptures." 

Although  he  claims  to  have  received  the  revelation  to  which  we 
have  referred  in  his  youth,  he  did  not  essay  the  active  duties  of  his 
ministry  until  the  twenty-third  year  of  his  We.  "  I  was  sent  to 
turn  the  people  from  darkness  to  light — to  the  grace  of  God,  and 
to  the  truth  in  the  heart  which  came  by  Jesus,  that  all  might  come 
to  know  their  salvation  nigh.  I  saw  that  Christ  died  for  all  men, 
and  that  the  manifestations  of  the  Spirit  were  given  to  every  man 
to  profit  withal.  These  things  I  did  not  see  by  the  help  of  man, 
nor  by  the  letter,  though  they  are  written  in  the  letter ;  but  I  saw 
them  in  the  light  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  by  his  immediate 
spirit  and  power,  as  did  the  holy  men  of  dod  by  whom  the  Scrip- 
tures were  written." 

It  is  conceded  that  Fox  had  a  wonderful  power  of  preaching ; 
that  his  enthusiasm  was  overpowering;  that  his  sincerity  was 
unquestionable,  and  that  his  boldness  and  courage  were  equal  to 
any  emergency.  Acting  as  he  did  under  an  impression  which 
gave  tone  and  importance  to  his  words  rather  than  to  his  thoughts, 
it  is  not  remarkable  that  he  possessed  and  exercised  extreme  fas- 
cination over  masses,  who  listened  eagerly  to  the  words  he  utter- 
ed. Moreover,  the  absolute  matter  of  his  harangues  was  sound, 
wholesome,  and  elevating.  In  precept  and  in  practice  he  was 
alike  sincere.  The  people  listened  to  his  discourses,  and  found 
them  strange  ;  they  watched  his  actions,  and  found  them  strange ; 
for  there  was  depravity  in  neither. 

He  traveled  extensively,  and  made  converts  every  where.  In 
1648  several  meeting-houses  were  in  operation.  "He  fasted 
much,"  says  Neal,  "  and  walked  often  abroad  in  retired  places, 
with  no  other  companion  but  his  Bible."  A  man  of  peace,  he 
excited  war.  The  authorities  tried  to  crush  him.  He  was 
thrown  into  prison ;  put  in  the  stocks ;  hooted  from  the  house  of 
meeting ;  stoned  from  the  city.  This,  and  more,  he  bore  with 
patience.  At  the  first  opportunity  he  preached  again,  and  made 


GEORGE  FOX.  73 

more  converts.  Not  content  with  this,  he  exercised  himself  with 
"going  to  courts  to  cry  for  justice — in  speaking  and  writing  to 
judges  to  do  justly — in  warning  such  as  kept  house?  for  public 
entertainment  that  they  should  not  let  the  people  have  more  drink 
than  would  do  them  good — in  testifying  against  wakes,  feasts, 
May-games,  sports,  plays,  and  shows,  which  train  people  up  to 
vanity,  and  lead  them  from  the  fear  of  God.  In  fairs,  also,  and 
markets,  he  was  made  to  declare  against  their  deceitful  merchan- 
dise and  cheating ;  warning  all  to  do  justly,  to  speak  the  truth, 
to  let  their  yea  be  yea,  and  their  nay  nay,  and  to  do  unto  othej.s 
as  they  would  .have  others  do  unto  them.  He  was  moved  also  to 
cry  against  all  socks  of  music,  and  against  mountebanks  playing 
tricks  on  their  stages,  for  they  burdened  the  pure  life,  and  stirred 
up  the  minds  of  the  people  to  vanity."  A  man  moved  with  so 
many  internal  admonitions,  and  ostentatious  of  pronouncing  them, 
was  not  likely  to  escape  the  wrath  of  those  whose  sympathies  were 
in  an  opposite  direction. 

In  the  present  day  it  is  a  matter  of  mirth  even  to  right-minded 
people  to  see  with  what  tenacity  a  Quaker's  hat  sticky  to  his  head. 
Nothing  was  more  irritating  to  Fox's  opponents  than  the  positive 
scorn  of  authority, which  the  covered  head  implied.  At  times  it 
was  difficult  to  decide  whether  it  was  Fox  or  his  hat  that  gave 
most  offense.  "Oh !"  exclaimed  Fox,  "  the  blows,  the  punchings, 
the  beatings,  and  imprisonments  we  underwent  for  not  pulling  off' 
the  hat !  The  bad  language  and  evil  usage  -we  received  on  this 
account  is  hard  to  be  expressed,  besides  the  danger  we  were  some- 
times in  of  losing  our  lives  for  this  matter,  and  that,  too,  by  the 
great  professors  of  Christianity." 

The  authorities  were  never  very  severe  with  him,  although  he 
was  frequently  arrested  and  thrown  into  prison  on  frivolous 
charges.  He  was  detained  sometimes  for  days,  sometimes  for 
months,  and  then  set  at  liberty.  It  was  difficult  to  fabricate  a 
grave  charge  against  him,  for,  with  all  his  enthusiasm,  he  was 
circumspect  and  well  meaning ;  it  was  still  more  difficult  to  sus- 
tain a  charge,  for  he  had  an  exact  and  logical  mind  which  con- 
founded the  lawyers.  Frequently  he  prayed  for  his  tormentors 
in  open  court,  and  invariably  bade  them  "  tremble  at  the  word 
of  the  Lord."  From  this  circumstance,  the  sect  which  he  found- 
ed obtained  the  nickname  of  "  Quakers." 

Cromwell,  with  his  austere  regard  for  every  thing  moral,  rec- 

D 


74  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ognized  all  that  was  good  in  Fox  and  his  tenets.  He  helped  him 
out  of  some  difficulties,  and,  it  is  said,  invited  him  to  dine  at  the 
palace,  whfch,  however,  Fox  declined.  On  a  subsequent  occa- 
sion he  had  an  interview  with  the  Protector,  and  laid  all  his 
grievances  before  him,  not  without  result,  for  he  was  a  man  who 
possessed  the  power  of  persuasion  in  an  eminent  degree.  Some 
curious  anecdotes  are  related  of  this  power.  On  one  occasion,  a? 
he  was  traveling  through  Wales,  he  was  overtaken  by  a  man  of 
some  distinction,  who  had  maliciously  determined  to  arrest  him 
on  some  unjust  pretense.  They  entered  into  conversation,  and 
Fox  said  so  many  things  that  were  good,  pure,  and  lofty,  that  his 
would-be-persecutor  forgot  his  first  intention,  and  invited  Fox  to 
his  house,  where  he  was  treated  with  the  greatest  respect  and  hos- 
pitality. The  result  was  that  the  man  and  his  wife  became  con- 
verts to  Quakerism.  On  another  occasion,  while  undergoing  a 
term  of  imprisonment,  he  was  subjected  to  many  unnecessary  cru- 
elties by  the  jailer,  who  seemed  to  take  a  special  pleasure  in  trying 
the  patience  of  his  prisoner.  He  was  unable  to  disturb  the  pla- 
cidity of  Fox.'s  temper.  All  he  could  obtain  was  an  earnest  les- 
son of  Christian  forbearance,  not  unmixed  with  instruction,  which 
was  wholesome  as  it  was  strange  in  such  a  place.  By  these 
means  Fox  so  won  upon  the  better  feelings  of  the  jailer,  that  after 
his  liberation  the  latter  wrote  to  him  in  language  humble  and  af- 
fectionate, begging  that  he  might  be  admitted  into  the  society  of 
Friends.  Many  similar  instances  are  recorded. 

In  1660,  members  of  the  society  of  Friends  were  to  be  found  in 
all  parts  of  the  United  Kingdom.  The  rapid  increase  in  their 
numbers  became  a  subject  of  serious  alarm  to  the  bigoted  and  the 
foolish.  Quakers  became  the  objects  of  peculiar  aversion  to  coun- 
try magistrates.  The  jails  were  filled  with  them.  Persecution 
strengthened  their  cause,  and  their  numbers  continued  to  increase. 
A  number  of  country  bigots  resolved  to  put  a  stop  to  the  evil  by 
boldly  striking  at  its  head.  Accordingly,  Fox  was  arrested  as  a 
seditious  and  dangerous  person,  and  as  one  who  had  committed  a 
very  long  list  of  offenses,  which  were  carefully  enumerated  in  the 
indictment.  The  matter  might  have  proved  serious  if  Fox's 
friends  had  not  procured  an  examination  before  the  Court  of 
Icing's  Bench.  The  judges  in  that  high  court  were  amazed  at 
the  stupidity  of  the  charges  brought  against  the  prisoner,  and  or- 
dered him  to  be  immediately  discharged.  On  this  occasion  and 


GEORGE  FOX.  75 

on  others  he  was  set  at  liberty  the  moment  he  gave  his  word  that 
lie  would  appear  for  trial  at  an  appointed  day.  This  fact  alone 
speaks  volumes  for  the  reputation  he  enjoyed  even  among  his  en- 
emies. 

The  oath  of  Allegiance  and  Supremacy,  which  was  revived  in 
1661,  became  a  sore  stumbling-block  to  Fox  and  his  disciples, 
who,  of  course,  refused  to  take  it.  For  this  refusal  Fox  was 
brought  to  trial,  and  subjected  to  an  inhuman  imprisonment  of 
six  years'  duration.  On  his  release  (1669)  he  married  his  wife 
Margaret,  a  highly-gifted  and  influential  preacher  among  the 
Quakers.  It  was  a  mature  wedding :  Fox  being  in  his  forty- 
fifth  year,  and  his  wife. ten  years  older.  They  lived  together  but 
little,  but  labored  assiduously  in  the  cause.  When  one  happen- 
ed to  get  into  prison,  the  other  endeavored  to  obtain  a  release. 
Sometimes  it  happened  that  both  were  in  prison  at  the  same  time. 

The  immense  energy  which  Fox  brought  to  bear  on  his  loved 
task  may  be  estimated  by  the  fact  that  during  his  career  he  preach- 
ed in  all  the  principal  towns  of  England,  Scotland,  Ireland,  and 
Wales.  He  twice  visited  Holland  and  some  parts  of  Germany, 
where  multitudes  joined  the  society.  The  years  1671-1672  he 
spent  in  the  British  West  Indies  and  the  colonies  of  America, 
where  he  traveled  extensively,  making  some  stay  in  New  England, 
Pennsylvania,  and  Maryland.  For  more  than  forty  years  this  re- 
markable man  devoted  the  best  energies  of  an  unusual  mind  to 
the  interests  of  a  society  which,  under  his  guidance,  grew  to  be, 
and  still  is,  a  model  of  Christian  organization.  Death  found  him 
busy  in  his  ministrations,  the  13th  of  November,  1699,  aged  67 
years.  Had  he  lived  six  years  longer  he  would  have  seen  all  the 
claims  of  his  society  fully  recognized  by  the  English  Parliament. 

George  Fox  is  described  as  a  man  above  the  ordinary  size,  of 
graceful  and  engaging  manners,  and-with  an  eye  of  piercing  brill- 
iancy. In  his  habits  he  was  temperate,  ate  sparingly,  and  avoid- 
ed all  intoxicating  drinks  as  a  beverage.  That  he  was  a  man  of 
unusual  force  of  character  is  amply  demonstrated  by  his  career. 
"  His  presence  expressed  a  religious  majesty,"  said  William  Penn. 
He  was  sincere  in  his  belief  that  he  had  received  his  commission 
directly  from  Heaven,  and  his  actions  were  not  likely  to  be  in- 
jured by  that  belief.  He  discharged  his  mission  on  earth  brave- 
ly, and  with  wisdom,  forbearance,  and  Christian  hopefulness.  His 
name  will  live. 


AMOS   LAWKENCE. 

AMOS  LAWRENCE — one  of  the  most  pure  and  lovely  of  all  self- 
made  men — was  born  at  Groton,  Massachusetts,  on  the  22d  of 
April,  1786.  His  ancestors  were  English,  and  probably  migrated 
to  this  country  in  1630.  His  father  served  in  the  Revolutionary 
war,  and  was  wounded  at  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill.  His  mother 
was  a  woman  of  the  best  affections,  and  of  strongly-marked  char- 
acter, capable  and  willing  in  the  discharge  of  all  those  duties  that 
make  home  delightful. 

Young  Amos,  a  weakly  child,  was  often  detained  from  school 
in  consequence  of  ill  health ;  but,  being  a  lad  of  quick  parts,  he 
made  considerable  progress  in  the  rudiments  of  a  solid  English 
education,  despite  this  drawback.  The  master  of  the  district 
school  was  frequently  a  visitor  at  his  father's  house,  a  house 
famed  for  its  hospitality,  and  young  Amos  delightedly  listened  to 
the  patriotic  sentiments  which  were  uttered  in  those  times  that 
tried  men's  souls. 

In  1799,  being  still  too  weak  to  assist  on  the  fUrm,  he  was 
placed  at  a  Small  store  in  the  town  of  Dunstable,  where  he.  re- 
mained a  few  months.  He  was  then  transferred  to  the  counting- 


AMOS  LAWRENCE.  77 

house  of  James  Brazer,  Esq.,  of  Groton,  an  enterprising  and 
thrifty  country  merchant.  Several  clerks  were  employed,  and  as 
Mr.  Brazer,  after  a  few  years,  ceased  to  take  an  active  part  in  the 
business,  much  of  the  responsibility  of  the  establishment  rested 
on  young  Lawrence.  By  attention,  probity,  and  fairness,  he  had 
justly  entitled  himself  to  this  confidence.  An  instance  may  be 
given  of  ih9  self-control  which,  even  at  this  early  day,  he  was 
capable  of  exercising.  Mr.  Brazer's  store  contained  all  sorts  of 
merchandise.  It  was  intended  to,  and  really  did,  supply  the  wants 
of  a  small  neighborhood.  In  those  days  temperance  was  little 
understood,  and  total  abstinence  scarcely  thought  of.  Huge  quan- 
tities of  liquors  were  retailed  daily,  and  imbibed  with  the  regularity 
of  clock-work.  The  clerks  were  accustomed  to  take  their  morning 
draught,  and  Amos,  falling  into  the  habit  without  thought,  joined 
them.  At  first  he  had  no  appetite  for  the  thing,  and  merely  took 
it  because  it  appeared  to  be  the  fashion ;  but  after  a  while  he 
began  to  look  forward  to  the  hour  for  imbibing  with  pleasure. 
Alarmed  at  this  circumstance,  he  immediately  resolved  that  he 
would  break  off.  The  task  was  an  easy  one  so  far  as  his  mere 
palate  was  concerned,  but  delicacy  in  the  matter  of  drinking  was 
a  thing  that  was  looked  on  as  supremely  ridiculous  by  his  com- 
panions, and  his  determination  excited  their  laughter  and  con- 
tempt. Unmindful  of  these,  he  resolved  on  total  abstinence,  and 
adhered  to  his  resolution  in  spite  of  the  natural  sensitiveness  of 
youth  and  the  unmerciful  ridicule  of  his  companions.  "  My  first 
resolution,"  he  says,  "  was  to  abstain  for  a  week,  and,  when  the 
week  was  out,  for  a  month,  and  then  for  a  year.  Finally,  I  re- 
solved to  abstain  for  the  rest  of  my  apprenticeship,  which  was  for 
five  years  longer.  During  that  whole  period  I  never  drank  a 
spoonful,  though  I  mixed  gallons  daily  for  my  old  master  and  his 
customers.  I  decided  not  to  be  a  slave  to  tobacco  in  any  form, 
though  I  loved  the  odor  of  it  then,  and  even  now  have  in  my 
drawer  a  superior  Havana  cigar — given  me,  not  long  since,  by  a 
friend — but  only  to  smell  of.  I  have  never  in  my  life  smoked  a 
cigar ;  never  chewed  but  one  quid,  and  that  was  before  I  was 
fifteen ;  and  never  took  an  ounce  of  snuflf,  though  the  scented 
rappee  of  forty  years  ago  had  great  charms  for  me." 

During  the  term  of  his  apprenticeship  he  met  with  an  accident 
Avhich  was  near  proving  fatal.  In  assisting  an  acquaintance  to 
unload  a  gun,  by  some  accident  the  charge  exploded,  and  passed 


78  SKLF-MADE  MEN. 

directly  through  the  middle  of  his  hand,  making  a  round  hole  like 
a  bullet.  Sixty-three  shot  were  picked  out  of  the  floor  after  the 
accident,  and  it  seemed  almost  a  miracle  that  he  ever  again  had 
the  use  of  his  hand. 

After  the  expiration  of  his  apprenticeship  (which  lasted  seven 
years),  Mr.  Lawrence,  now  in  his  twenty-first  year,  made  a  journey 
to  Boston  for  the  purpose  of  establishing  a  credit  which  might 
enable  him  to  commence  business  in  Groton  on  his  own  account. 
He  had  not  been  many  days  in  Boston  when  he  received  the  offer 
of  a  clerkship  from  a  respectable  house.  Wishing  to  familiarize 
himself  with  the  metropolitan  way  of  doing  business,  he  accept- 
ed the  offer.  His  employers  were  so  well  satisfied  with  the  ca- 
pacities of  their  new  clerk,  that  in  a  few  months  they  proposed 
to  receive  him  as  a  partner.  For  reasons  of  his  own,  Mr.  Law- 
rence declined  the  honor,  but  soon  after  started  in  business  for 
liimself  (Boston,  December  17th,  1807).  He  was  then,  in  the. 
matter  of  property,  not  worth  a  dollar,  but  his  character  was  so 
well  known  and  appreciated  that  he  had  little  difficulty  in  ob- 
taining a  sufficient  credit.  For  the  rest  he  was  indebted  to  his 
father,  who  mortgaged  his  farm  in  order  to  assist  his  son  with  a 
thousand  dollars.  In  the  conduct  of  his  business  he  adopted  a 
rigid  code  of  principles,  beginning  with  the  maxim,  "Business 
before  friends."  Writing  of  this  period,  he  says  :  "I  adopted  the 
plan  of  keeping  an  accurate  account  of  merchandise  bought  and 
sold  each  day,  with  the  profit,  as  far  as  practicable.  This  plan 
was  pursued  for  a  number  of  years,  and  I  never  found  my  mer- 
chandise fall  short  in  taking  an  account  of  stock,  which  I  did  as 
often  at  least  as  once  in  each  year.  I  was  thus  enabled  to  form 
an  opinion  of  my  actual  state  as  a  business  man.  I  adopted  also 
the  rule  always  to  have  property,  after  my  second  year's  business, 
to  represent  forty  per  cent,  atf  least  more  than  I  owed ;  that  is, 
never  to  be  in  debt  more  than  two  and  a  half  times  my  capital. 
This  caution  saved  me  from  ever  getting  embarrassed.  If  it  were 
more  generally  adopted  we  should  see  fewer  failures  in  business. 
Excessive  credit  is  the  rock  on  which  so  many  business  men  are 
broken.  *  *  I  made  about  fifteen  hundred  dollars  the  first  year, 
and  more  than  four  thousand  the  second.  Probably,  had  I  made 
four  thousand  the  first  year,  I  should  have  failed  the  second  or 
third  year.  I  practiced  a  system  of  rigid  economy,  and  never 
allowed  myself  to  spend  a  fourpence  for  unnecessary  objects  until 
I  had  acquired  it." 


AMOS  LAWRENCE.  79 

Having  become  firmly  established  in  Boston,  he  resolved  to 
take  his  brother  Abbott  (afterward  minister  to  the  court  of  St. 
James)  as  an  apprentice  (October,  1808).  Abbott  was  in  his  fif- 
teenth year,  and  made  his  appearance  in  Boston  with  a  bundle 
under  his  arm,  and  less  than  three  dollars  in  his  pocket.  He 
was  a  bright  lad,  but  needed  the  watchful  eye  of  his  brother  to 
keep  him  from  the  snares  and  pitfalls  with  which  a  large  city 
abounds.  In  1814  he  was  taken  into  partnership  by  Amos.  Pre- 
vious to  this  the  latter  had  taken  unto  himself  the  great  comfort 
of  the  world,  a  wife  (1811).  With  this  estimable  lady  he  lived  a 
life  of  domestic  bliss,  cut  short  by  her  untimely  death  in  January, 
1819.  The  character  of  Mrs.  Lawrence  is  touchingly  expressed 
in  an  incident  which  occurred  a  few  hours  before  her  dissolution. 
She  called  for  paper,  and  with  a  pencil  traced  in  a  trembling  hand 
some  directions  respecting  small  memorials  to  friends,  and  then 
added,  "  Feeling  that  I  must  soon  depart  from  this,  I  trust,  to  a 
better  world,  I  resign  my  very  dear  friends  to  God,  who  has  done 
so  much  for  me.  I  am  hi  ecstasies  of  love.  How  can  I  praise 
him  enough !" 

The  loss  of  his  wife  (by  whom  he  had  three  children)  was  an 
affliction  so  severe  that  Mr.  Lawrence  became  utterly  prostrafed 
by  it.  A  gloomy  despondency  settled  on  his  mind,  his  health  fail- 
ed, and  it  became  necessary,  to  avert  dire  consequences,  that  he 
should  obtain  a  change  of  scene.  Under  the  advice  of  his  physi- 
cian?  he  made  a  tour  through  Virginia,  and  paid  a  visit  to  Wash- 
ington, where  he  had  the  good  fortune  to  hear  Daniel  Webster. 
On  his  return  he  was  able  to  resume  his  usual  avocations  with 
greater  composure. 

Conducted  on  the  surest  basis  of  commercial  prosperity,  it  is 
not  remarkable  that  the  business  of  the  Lawrence  establishment 
prospered.  At  a  time  when  credit  was  shaken  in  every  leading 
city  of  the  Union  by  the  wild  and  heedless  thirst  for  speculation  ; 
when  houses  that  were  considered  the  most  secure  tottered  and 
fell  in  the  general  crash,  Lawrence  and  his  brother  pursued  their 
quiet,  unpretending  way,  unseduced  by  the  hope  of  sudden  wealth, 
unterrified  by  the  dread  of  prospective  ruin.  By  well-directed 
prudence  and  easily  contented  expectations,  they  weathered  the 
storm  that  destroyed  their  neighbors,  and  possibly  derived  some 
benefit  from  the  superior  wisdom  which  enabled  them  to  do  so. 

In  April,  1821,  Mr.  Lawrence  married  his  second  wife,  and  in 


30  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

the  same  year  was  elected  a  representative  from  Boston  to  the 
Legislature  for  the  session  of  1821-1822.  This  was  the  only  oc- 
casion on  which  he  ever  served  in  a  public  legislative  body.  He 
attended  faithfully  to  the  duties  of  his  office,  although  with  much 
sacrifice  to  his  own  personal  interests. 

From  this  point  it  is  unnecessary  to  pursue  the  history  of  Mr. 
Lawrence's  career.  The  "  Diary  and  Correspondence"  given  to 
the  world  by  his  son,  Dr.  Lawrence,  supply  all  the  information 
that  the  student  may  require,  and  to  that  work  we  cheerfully  di- 
rect the  attention  of  young  men,  who,  on  entering  life  through 
one  of  the  many  channels  of  trade,  desire,  and  to  a  great  extent 
need,  the  encouragement  of  a  successful  model.  By  carefully  and 
earnestly  applying  himself  to  the  duties  of  life,  Mr.  Lawrence  be- 
came rich,  but  he  did  not  allow  himself  to  be  engrossed  by  the 
cares  of  wealth.  On  more  than  one  occasion,  when  he  found  that 
he  was  making  too  much  money,  he  limited  the  extent  of  his 
trade,  so  that  he  might  not  be  tempted.  When  at  length  he  found 
himself  in  the  receipt  of  an  income  more  than  sufficient  for  the 
frugal  wants  of  his  .own  home,  he  extended  his  generous  hand, 
and,  with  a  wise  philanthropy,  relieved  the  destitute,  assisted  the 
needy,  succored  the  weak,  and  built  up  charities  with  the  strong 
faith  of  an  enlightened  Christian.  No  man  knows  the  extent  of 
his  bounties,  for  it  was  one  of  the  glories  of  his  life  that  he  sel- 
dom spoke  of  what  he  did.  Throughout  all  his  career  he  was 
governed  by  the  pious  hope  that  he  would  be  rewarded  with  the 
"Well  done  !"  of  his  heavenly  Master. 

With  the  object  of  knowing  the  amount  of  his  expenditures  for 
purposes  other  than  the  support  of  his  family,  he  commenced,  in 
1829,  to  keep  a  particular  account  of  charities  and  appropriations 
for  others.  This  was  kept  up  perpetually  until  the  year  of  his 
death,  a  period  of  twenty-three  years.  During  that  time  this 
good  man  expended  in  the  most  wise  and  beneficent  ways  no  less 
than  six  hundred  and  thirty-nine  thousand  dollars.  "  Many  per- 
sons have  done  more,"  says  his  son,  modestly,  "  but  few,  perhaps, 
have  done  as  much  in  proportion  to  the  means  which  they  had  to 
bestow."  The  passion  for  accumulation  was  entirely  unknown  to 
Mr.  Lawrence.  If  he  made  twenty  thousand  dollars  more  in  one 
year  than  another,  he  rejoiced  simply  because  it  enabled  him  to 
expend  twenty  thousand  dollars  more  for  charitable  objects.  His 
philanthropy  extended  to  all  classes,  all  sects,  all  purposes.  He 


AMOS  LAWRENCE.  81 

was  absolutely  without  a  prejudice.  Nor  did  he  give  merely  to 
charities,  and  persons  in  want  of  charitable  assistance.  To  oth- 
ers who  derived  nothing  but  gratification  from  the  approach  of  a 
good  man,  he  made  suitable  gifts,  stimulating  them  to  kindred  ex- 
ertions in  the  good  cause  of  brotherly  love.  "  And  in  so  doing, 
and  in  witnessing  the  results,  and  in  the  atmosphere  of  sympathy 
and  love  thus  created,  there  was  a  test,  and  a  discipline,  arid  an 
enjoyment,  as  well  as  a  benefit  to  others,  that  could  have  been 
reached  in  no  other  way."  Another  peculiarity  of  the  bounty  of 
Mr.  Lawrence,  and  in  which  he  was  pre-eminent,  was  the  person- 
al attention  and  sympathy  which  he  bestowed  with  it.  "  He  had 
in  his  house,"  says  Professor  Hopkins,  "a  room  where  he  kept 
stores  of  useful  articles  for  distribution.  He  made  up  the  bundle ; 
he  directed  the  package.  No  detail  was  overlooked.  He  remem- 
bered the  children,  and  designated  for  each  the  toy,  the  book,  the 
elegant  gift.  He  thought  of  every  want,  and  was  ingenious  and 
happy  in  devising  appropriate  gifts.  In  this  attention  to  the  mi- 
nutest token  of  regard,  while,  at  the  same  time,  he  could  give 
away  thousands  like  a  prince,  he  was  unequaled ;  and  if  the  gift 
was  appropriate,  the  manner  of  giving  was  not  less  so.  There 
was  in  this  the  nicest  appreciation  of  the  feeling  of  others,  and  an 
intuitive  perception  of  delicacy  and  propriety.  These  were  the 
characteristics  that  gave  him  a  hold  upon  the  hearts  of  many,  and 
made  his  death  really  felt  as  that  of  few  other  men  in  Boston 
could  have  been.  In  this  we  find  not  a  little  of  the  utility,  and 
much  of  the  beauty  of  charity.  Even  in  his  human  life  man  does 
not  live  by  bread  alone,  but  by  sympathy  and  the  play  of  recipro- 
cal affection,  and  is  often  more  touched  by  the  kindness  than  by 
the  relief.  Only  this  sympathy  it  is  that  can  establish  the  right 
relation  between  the  rich  and  the  poor,  and  the  necessity  for  this 
can  be  superseded  by  no  legal  provision.  This  only  can  neutral- 
ize the  repellent  and  aggressive  tendencies  of  individuals  and  of 
classes,  and  make  society  a  brotherhood,  where  the  various  ine- 
qualities shall  work  out  moral  good,  and  where  acts  of  mutual 
kindness  and  helpfulness  may  pass  and  repass,  as  upon  a  golden 
chain,  during  a  brief  pilgrimage  and  scene  of  probation.  It  is  a 
great  and  a  good  thing  for  a  rich  man  to  set  the  stream  of  chari- 
ty in  motion ;  to  employ  an  agent,  to  send  a  check,  to  found  an 
asylum,  to  endow  a  professorship,  to  open  a  fountain  that  shall 
flow  for  ages ;  but  it  is  as  different  from  sympathy  with  present 

D  2 


82  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

suffering,  and  the  relief  of  immediate  want,  as  the  building  of  a 
dam  to  turn  a  factory  by  one  great  sluiceway  is  from  the  irriga- 
tion of  the  fields.  By  Mr.  Lawrence  both  were  done.  He  gave 
as  a  Christian  man,  from  a  sense  of  religious  obligation.  Not 
that  all  his  gifts  had  a  religious  aspect :  he  gave  gifts  of  friend- 
ship and  affection.  There  was  a  large  inclosure  where  the  affec- 
tions walked  foremost,  and  where,  though  they  asked  leave  of 
Duty,  they  yet  received  no  prompting  from  her." 

From  the  eloquent  address  of  President  Hopkins  we  also  quote 
the  following  estimate  of  Mr.  Lawrence's  religious  character : 
"  He  was  a  deeply  religious  man.  His  trust  in  God  and  his  hope 
of  salvation  through  Christ  were  the  basis  of  his  character.  He 
believed  in  the  providence  of  God  as  concerned  in  all  events,  and 
as  discriminating  and  retributive  in  this  world.  He  felt  that  he 
could  trust  God  in  his  providence  where  he  could  not  see.  '  The 
events  of  my  life,'  he  says,  '  have  been  so  far  ordered  in  a  way  to 
make  me  feel  that  I  know  nothing  at  the  time  except  that  a  Fa- 
ther rules ;  and  his  discipline,  however  severe,  is  never  more  so 
than  is  required.'  He  believed  in  the  Bible,  and  saw  rightly  its 
relation  to  all  our  blessings.  '  What,'  he  writes  again,  '  should 
we  do  if  the  Bible  were  not  the  foundation  of  our  self-govern- 
ment "?  and  what  will  become  of  us  when  we  willfully  and  wick- 
edly cast  it  behind  us  T  He  read  the  Bible  morning  and  evening 
in  his  family,  and  prayed  with  them ;  and  it  may  aid  those  who 
are  acquainted  with  the  prayers  of  Thornton,  in  forming  a  con- 
ception of  his  religious  character,  to  know  that  he  used  them. 
Family  religion  he  esteemed  as  above  all  price  ;  and  when  he  first 
learned  that  a  beloved  relative  had  established  family  worship,  he 
wept  for  joy.  He  distributed  religious  books  very  extensively, 
chiefly  those  of  the  American  Tract  Society  and  of  the  American 
Sunday  School  Union.  *  *  *  *  Of  creeds  held  in  the  understand- 
ing, but  not  influencing  the  life,  he  thought  little,  and  the  tend- 
ency of  his  mind  was  to  practical  rather  than  doctrinal  views. 
He  believed  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  as  a  Savior,  and  trusted  in 
him  for  salvation.  He  was  a  man  of  habitual  prayer.  The  last 
time  I  visited  him,  he  said  to  me  that  he  had  been  restless  during 
the  night,  and  that  the  only  way  in  which  he  could  get  '  quieted 
was  by  getting  near  to  God,'  and  that  he  went  to  sleep  repeating 
a  prayer.  During  the  same  visit,  he  spoke  strongly  of  his  readi- 
ness, and  even  of  his  desire  to  depart.  He  viewed  death  with 


AMOS  LAWRENCE.  f  83 

tranquillity,  and  hope,  and  preparation,  for  it  was  habitual  with 
iiim.  What  need  I  say  more?  At  midnight  the  summons  came, 
and  his  work  was  done." 

At  midnight  on  the  30-31st  of  December,  1852,  this  admira- 
ble man  breathed  his  last,  without  having  awakened  to  conscious- 
ness from  the  slumber  into  which  he  had  fallen.  On  the  morn- 
ing of  his  death  was  found  upon  his  table  the  following  lines,  cop- 
ied by  him  from  a  favorite  hymn : 

"Vital  spark  of  heavenly  flame, 
Quit,  oh  quit  this  mortal  frame ! 
Trembling,  hoping,  lingering,  flying — 
Oh  the  pain,  the  bliss  of  dying ! 
Cease,  fond  nature,  cease  thy  strife, 
And  let  me  languish  into  life. 
Hark !— " 

The  abrupt  termination,  as  if  called  away  by  the  Angel  of  Death, 
is  most  singular. 

The  memoranda  and  letters  of  Mr.  Lawrence  are  voluminous, 
and  display  a  simple  felicity  of  language  rarely  surpassed.  They 
have  been  incorporated  to  an  extent  in  the  "  Diary  and  Corre- 
spondence" edited  by  Dr.  Lawrence.  To  that  work  we  once  more 
direct  the  attention  of  the  reader. 


HANS   CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN. 

THE  story  of  a  thankful  man,  told  in  a. delightful  manner,  is 
the  "True  Story  of  My  Life,"  by  Mr.  Andersen*  From  this  vol- 
ume we  shall  condense  a  narrative  of  one  of  the  most  remark  - 
iible  literary  characters  of  the  age — a  man  whose  delightful  fan- 
cies are  known  in  every  country,  whose  genial  humor  is  a  source 
of  gratification  to  millions  of  the  rising  generation,  and  whose  in- 
dividual history  is  full  of  happy  incident  and  instruction. 

Hans  Christian  Andersen  is  a  native  of  Denmark — a  poetical 
land,  full  of  popular  traditions,  old  songs,  and  eventful  history. 
He  was  born  at  Odense  in  the  year  1805  (April  2d).  His  father 
was  a  shoemaker,  and  a  man  of  richly-gifted  and  truly  poetical 
'mind ;  his  mother,  a  few  years  older,  was  a  simple  peasant-woman, 
ignorant  of  life  and  the  world,  but  possessed  of  a  heart  full  of  love. 
They  were  in  extremely  humble  circumstances,  and  the  bedstead 
on  which  the  little  Hans  made  his  first  appearance  in  the  world 
was  nearly  the  only  article  of  furniture  in  the  room,  and  had  been 
constructed  by  Mr.  Andersen  out  of  the  wooden  frame  which,  only 
a  short  time  before,  had  borne  the  coffin  of  a  deceased  count.  The 
remnants  of  the  black  cloth  on  the  woodwork  kept  the  fact  still 
in  remembrance.  Being  the  only  child,  Hans  was,  of  course,  ex- 
tremely spoiled.  His  father  gratified  him  in  all  his  wishes.  As 
soon  as  he  could  understand  the  meaning  of  language,  he  read  to 
him  from  Holberg  and  the  "Arabian  Nights'  Entertainments." 
On  Sundays  he  went  out  into  the  woods,  not  to  talk  with  him, 
for  he  was  silent  and  moody  on  such  occasions,  but  to  give  him 
an  opportunity  of  playing  among  the  wild  flowers  and  plucking 
the  fragrant  strawberry. 

Young  Hans  was  from  the  earliest  of  a  warm,  genial  imagina- 
tion, and  every  thing  around  him  tended  to  excite  it.  Odense 
itself,  in  those  days,  was  a  totally  different  city  to  what  it  is  now ; 
a  person  might  have  fancied  himself  living  hundreds  of  years 
ago,  so  many  strange  customs  prevailed  which  belonged  to  an  ear- 
lier period.  The  guilds  walked  in  procession  through  the  town, 


HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN.  85 

with  their  harlequin  before  them,  and  mace  and  bells ;  on  Shrove 
Tuesday  the  butchers  led  the  fattest  ox  through  the  streets  adorned 
with  garlands,  while  a  boy  in  a  white  shirt,  and  with  great  wings 
on  his  shoulders,  rode  upon  it ;  the  sailors  paraded  through  the 
city  with  music  and  all  their  flags  flying,  and  then  two  of  the 
boldest  among  them  stood  and  wrestled  upon  a  plank  placed  be- 
tween two  boats,  and  the  one  who  was  not  thrown  into  the  water 
was  the  victor.  Every  event  which  occurred  in  or  around  his 
home  printed  itself  in  vivid  colors  on  his  memory.  He  noticed 
every  thing,  seldom  played  with  other  boys,  and  even  at  school 
took  little  interest  in  their  games.  He  was  a  singularly  dreamy 
child,  and  so  constantly  went  about  with  his  eyes  shut  as  at  last 
to  give  the  impression  of  having  weak  sight.  Like  most  people 
who  observe  a  great  deal,  he  seemed  to  observe  nothing. 

In  the  summer  months  he  used  to  accompany  his  mother  to  the 
harvest-fields,  and  assist  in  the  operation  of  gleaning.  One  day 
they  went  to  a  place,  the  bailiff  of  which  was  well  known  for  be- 
ing a  man  of  a  rude  and  savage  disposition.  They  had  not  been 
engaged  long  when  they  saw  him  coming  with  a  huge  whip  in  his 
hand.  The  gleaners  hurried  away  with  the  greatest  precipitation, 
but  poor  little  Hans  lost  his  wooden  shoes,  and  the  thorns  pricked 
him  so  that  he  could  not  run  as  fast  as  the  others.  The  bailiff 
came  up  and  lifted  his  whip  to  strike  him.  Hans  looked  in  his 
face,  and  involuntarily  exclaimed, 

"  How  dare  you  strike  me,  when  God  can  see  it?" 

The  strong,  stern  man  looked  at  him,  and  at  once  became 
mild ;  he  patted  the  little  fellow  on  his  cheek,  and  gave  him 
money. 

At  an  early  age  Hans  Christian  lost  his  father,  who  was  a  strange 
man,  superior  to  his  station,  and  unwisely  dissatisfied  with  it.  One 
morning  he  awoke  in  a  state  of  the  wildest  excitement,  and  Hans 
was  dispatched  in  all  haste  to  a  wise  woman,  who  lived  some  miles 
from  Odense,  to  obtain  medical  relief.  She  questioned  him,  meas- 
ured his  arm  with  a  woolen  thread,  made  extraordinary  signs,  and 
at  last  laid  a  green  twig  upon  his  breast,  saying  that  it  was  a  piece 
of  the  same  kind  of  tree  upon  which  the  Savior  was  crucified. 
"Go,  now,"  she  said,  "by  the  river's  side  toward  home.  If  your 
father  will  die  this  time,  then  you  will  meet  his  ghost."  Hans 
obeyed  the  injunction,  but,  as  he  did  not  meet  any  one,  he  con- 
gratulated himself  that  his  father  was  safe.  He  died  the  third 


86  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

day  after  that.  His  corpse  lay  on  the  bed,  and  Hans  slept  with 
his  mother.  A  cricket  chirped  the  whole  night  through. 

"  He  is  dead,"  said  Mrs.  Andersen,  addressing  the  insect ;  "  thou 
needest  not  call  him.  The  ice  maiden  has  fetched  him." 

The  allusion  was  to  an  incident  which  occurred  the  winter  be- 
fore, when  the  window-panes  were  frozen.  Mr.  Andersen  pointed 
to  them,  and  showed  to  his  son  a  figure  as  of  a  maiden  with  out- 
stretched arms.  "  She  is  come  to  fetch  me,"  said  he,  in  jest. 
And  now,  when  he  lay  dead  on  the  bed,  mother  and  son  remem- 
bered it  with  sorrow. 

After  his  father's  death  Hans  was  left  entirely  to  himself.  His 
mother  went  out  washing,  and  he  amused  himself  as  best  he  could 
with  books  and  playthings.  There  dwelt  in  the  neighborhood  the 
widow  of  a  clergyman,  Madame  Bunkeflod,  with  the  sister  of  her 
deceased  husband.  This  lady  opened  her  doors  to  the  boy,  and 
hers  was  the  first  house  belonging  to  the  educated  classes  into 
which  he  was  kindly  received.  The  deceased  husband  had  writ- 
ten poems,  and  had  gained  a  reputation  in  Danish  literature. 
His  spinning  songs  were  at  that  time  in  the  mouths  of  the  peo- 
ple. Here  it  was  that  Hans  heard  for  the  first  time  the  word  poet 
spoken,  and  that  with  so  much  reverence  as  proved  it  to  be  some- 
thing sacred.  "My  brother  the  poet,"  said  Bunkeflod's  sister, 
and  her  eyes  sparkled  as  she  said  it.  From  her  he  learned  that 
it  was  something  glorious  and  something  fortunate  to  be  a  poet. 
Here,  too,  for  the  first  time,  he  read  Shakspeare,  in  a  bad  trans- 
lation, to  be  sure ;  but  the  bold  descriptions,  the  heroic  incidents, 
witches,  and  ghosts  were  exactly  to  his  taste.  The  more  persons 
died  in  a  play,  the  more  interesting  he  thought  it ;  and  when,  soon 
after,  he  himself  wrote  a  play,  he  killed  every  body  at  the  end, 
and  thought  it  very  fine.  After  this  he  commenced  a  new  piece, 
in  which  a  king  and  queen  were  among  the  dramatis  persona.  He 
did  not  agree  with  Shakspeare  that  these  dignified  personages 
should  speak  like  other  men  and  women.  He  asked  his  mother 
and  different  people  how  a  king  ought  properly  to  speak,  but  no 
one  knew  exactly.  They  said  it  was  many  years  since  a  king  had 
been  in  Odense,  but  he  certainly  spoke  in  a  foreign  language. 
Acting  on  this  suggestion,  Hans  procured  a  sort  of  lexicon,  in 
which  were  German,  French,  and  English  words  with  Danish 
meanings.  He  took  a  word  out  of  each  language,  and  inserted 
them  in  the  speeches  of  his  king  and  queen.  It  was  a  regular 


HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN  87 

Babel-like  language,  suitable,  he  thought,  for  such  elevated  per- 
sonages. 

Hans  was  now  a  tall  lad,  remarkable  for  a  splendid  voice,  a 
passion  for  reading  and  acting,  and  for  making  fancy  costumes  for 
the  puppets  which  he  used  on  a  little  stage  to  enact  his  plays. 
He  was  sent  to  the  charity-school,  but  he  learned  little  there,  and 
could  scarcely  spell  or  count  when  he  left.  His  mother,  in  the 
mean  time,  had  married  again,  and  determined  that  Hans  should 
be  confirmed,  in  order  that  he  might  be  apprenticed  to  the  tailoring 
trade,  and  thus  do  something  rational.  An  old  female  tailor  al- 
tered his  deceased  father's  great-coat  into  a  suit  for  the  occasion, 
and  never  before  had  he  worn  so  good  a  coat.  He  had  also,  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life,  a  pair  of  boots.  His  delight  was  only 
equalednby  his  fear  that  every  body  would  not  see  them.  To 
avert  this  latter  calamity,  he  drew  them  up  over  his  trowsers,  and 
thus  marched  through  the  church.  The  boots  creaked,  and  that 
inwardly  pleased  him,  for  thus  the  congregation  were  informed  of 
the  fact  that  they  were  new.  "  My  whole  devotion,"  says  Mr. 
Andersen,  "  was  disturbed  ;  I  was  aware  of  it ;  and  it  caused  me 
a  horrible  pang  of  conscience  that  my  thoughts  should  be  as  much 
with  my  new  boots  as  with  God.  I  prayed  him  earnestly  from 
my  heart  to  forgive  me,  and  then  again  I  thought  about  my  new 
boots." 

Hans  had  contrived  to  save  a  small  sum  of  money,  amounting 
to  about  six  dollars.  With  this  he  begged  that  he  might  be  al- 
lowed to  go  to  Copenhagen  before  he  entered  on  the  unwelcome 
business  of  tailoring.  He  was  anxious  to  see  what  he  then  con- 
sidered the  greatest  city  in  the  world.  He  wept  and  prayed  un- 
lil  his  mother  consented.  She  packed  up  his  clothes  in  a  small 
bundle,  and  made  a  bargain  with  the  driver  of  a  post-carriage  to 
take  him  back  to  Copenhagen  for  three  rix-dollars.  On  the  5th 
of  September,  1819,  he  arrived  there  in  safety.  It  was  his  ambi- 
tion to  become  in  some  way  connected  with  the  theatre,  for  his 
tastes  and  his  talents  alike  seemed  to  indicate  that  sphere  as  one 
in  which  he  might  win  distinction.  On  the  following  day  he 
dressed  himself  in  his  confirmation  suit,  hot  forgetting  the  boots, 
although  this  time  they  were  worn  under  the  pantaloons ;  and 
thus,  in  his  best  attire,  with  a  hat  which  fell  half  over  his  eyes, 
he  hastened  to  present  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the  celebrated 
dancer,  Madame  Schall,  who  was  the  reigning  attraction  of  the 


88  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

theatre.  "  Kefore  I  rung  the  bell,  I  fell  on  my  knees  before 
the  door,  and  prayed  God  that  I  here  might  find  help  and  sup- 
port. A  maid-servant  came  down  the  steps  with  her  basket  in 
her  hand.  She  smiled  kindly  at  me,  gave  me  a  shilling  (Danish), 
and  tripped  on.  Astonished,  I  looked  at  her  and  the  money.  I 
had  on  my  confirmation  suit,  and  thought  I  must  look  very  smart. 
How,  then,  could  she  think  that  I  wanted  to  beg  ?  I  called  aft- 
er her. 

" '  Keep  it !  keep  it !'  said  she  to  me  in  return,  and  was  gone. 

"  At  length  I  was  admitted  to  the  dancer.  She  looked  at  me 
in  great  amazement,  and  then  heard  what  I  had  to  say.  She  had 
not  the  slightest  knowledge  of  him  from  whom  the  letter  came, 
and  my  whole  appearance  and  behavior  seemed  very  strange  to 
her.  I  confessed  to  her  my  heartfelt  inclination  for  the  Theatre ; 
and  upon  her  asking  me  what  characters  I  thought  I  could  rep- 
resent, I  replied,  Cinderella.  This  piece  had  been  performed  in 
Odense  by  the  royal  company,  and  the  principal  character  had  so 
greatly  taken  my  fancy,  that  I  could  play  the  part  perfectly  from 
memory.  In  the  mean  time,  I  asked  her  permission  to  take  off 
my  boots,  otherwise  I  was  not  light  enough  for  this  character; 
and  then,  taking  up  my  broad  hat  for  a  tambourine,  I  began  to 
dance  and  sing.  My  strange  gestures  and  my  great  activity 
caused  the  lady  to  think  me  out  of  my  mind,  and  she  lost  no  time 
in  getting  rid  of  me." 

From  the  dancer  Hans  went  to  the  manager  of  the  theatre. 
This  functionary  looked  at  him,  and  said  he  was  too  thift.  "  Oh," 
replied  the  boy,  "  if  you  will  only  engage  me  with  one  hundred 
rix-dollars  banco  salary,  then  I  shall  soon  get  fat !"  The  manager 
was  not  persuaded,  and  bade  him  go  on  'his  way,  saying  that  they 
only  engaged  people  of  education.  Deeply  mortified,  he  did  so. 
The  next  morning  he  discovered  that  his  funds  had  dwindled  down 
to  a  solitary  rix-dollar.  It  became  necessary,  therefore,  either  to 
return  home  or  obtain  work  with  some  handicraftsman.  He  de- 
termined on  the  latter  course,  and  soon  obtained  a  trial  at  a  cab- 
inet-maker's, where  he  was  placed  in  a  workshop  with  a  number 
of  men.  Their  conversation  was  so  repulsive  and  coarse  that 
young  Andersen  was  unable  to  stand  it.  He  rushed  from  the 
place,  forlorn  and  destitute. 

He  now  bethought  him  of  having  read  of  an  Italian,  Siboni, 
who  was  the»director  of  the  Academy  of  Music  in  Copenhagen. 


HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN.  8'J 

Every  one  had  praised  the  lad's  voice :  perhaps  something  might 
be  done  for  its  sake,  if  not  for  the  owner's.  Hans  hurried  to  the 
maestro's  house,  and  discovered  that  there  was  a  large  dinner- 
party within.  Nothing  dismayed,  he  unbosomed  himself  to  the 
housekeeper,  and  so  worked  on  her  sympathies  that  she  faced  the 
company  up  stairs,  and  repeated  the  boy's  story.  At  length  the 
door  opened,  and  all  the  guests  came  out  and  looked  at  him. 
"  They  would  have  me  to.  sing,  and  Siboni  heard  me  attentively. 
I  gave  some  scenes  out  of  Holberg,  and  repeated  a  few  poems ; 
and  then  till  at  once  the  sense  of  my  unhappy  condition  so  over- 
came me  that  I  burst  into  tears.  The  whole  company  applaud- 
ed. '  I  prophesy,'  said  one  of  the  guests,  '  that  something  will 
come  out  of  him ;  but  do  not  be  vain  when,  some  day,  the  whole 
public  shall  applaud  thee ;'  and  then  he  added  something  about 
pure,  true  nature,  and  that  this  is  too  often  destroyed  by  years 
and  by  intercourse  with  mankind.  I  did  not  understand  it  at  all. 

"  Siboni  promised  to  cultivate  my  voice,  and  that  I  therefore 
should  succeed  as  singer  at  the  Theatre  Royal.  It  made  me  very 
happy ;  I  laughed  and  wept ;  and  as  the  housekeeper  led  me  out, 
and  saw  the  excitement  under  which  I  labored,  she  stroked  my 
cheeks,  and  said  that  on  the  following  day  I  should  go  to  Professor 
Weyse,  who  meant  to  do  something  for  me,  and  upon  whom  I  could 
depend. 

"  I  went  to  Weyse,  who  himself  had  risen  from  poverty ;  he  had 
deeply  felt  and  fully  comprehended  my  unhappy  condition,  and  had 
raised  by  a  subscription  seventy-six  rix-dollars  banco  for  me.  I 
then  wrote  my  first  letter  to  my  mother,  a  letter  full  of  rejoicing 
for  the  good  fortune  the  whole  world  seemed  to  pour  on  me. 
My  mother,  in  her  joy,  showed  my  letter  to  all  her  friends;  many 
heard  of  it  with  astonishment ;  others  laughed  at  it ;  for  what  was 
to  be  the  end  of  it "?  In  order  to  understand  Siboni,  it  was  neces- 
sary for  me  to  learn  something  of  German.  A  woman  of  Copen- 
hagen, with  whom  I  traveled  from  Odense  to  this  city,  and  who 
gladly,  according  to  her  means,  would  have  supported  me,  obtained, 
through  one  of  her  acquaintance,  a  language-master,  who  gratui- 
tously gave  me  some  German  lessons,  and  thus  I  learned  a  few 
phrases  in  that  language.  Siboni  received  me  into  his  house,  and 
gave  me  food  and  instruction  ;  but  half  a  year  afterward  my  voice 
broke,  or  was  injured,  in  consequence  of  my  being  compelled  to 
wear  bad  shoes  through  the  winter,  and  having,  besides,  no  warm 


90  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

under-clothing.  There  was  no  longer  any  prospect  that  I  should 
become  a  fine  singer.  Siboni  told  me  candidly,  and  counseled  me 
to  go  to  Odense,  and  there  learn  a  trade. 

"  I,  who,  in  the  rich  colors  of  fancy,  had  described  to  my  mother 
the  happiness  which  I  actually  felt,  must  now  return  home,  and 
become  an  object  of  derision !  Agonized  with  this  thought,  I  stood 
as  if  crushed  to  the  earth." 

He  found  two  good  friends  in  this  dark  moment  of  his  life. 
Professor  Weyse  and  the  poet  Guldberg  stepped  forward,  and 
undertook  to  support  and  educate  the  young  fellow.  For  more 
than  two  years  he  devoted  himself  to  the  study  of  the  German 
and  Danish  languages,  under  their  auspices.  At  the  end  of  that 
time  he  had  partly  regained  the  use  of  his  voice,  and  the  singing- 
master  of  the  choir-school  offered  him  a  situation.  He  remained 
here  until  May,  1823,  and  was  then  dismissed  on  account  of  lim- 
ited education.  Once  more  he  felt  himself  cast  on  the  wide  world 
without  support  or  help.  In  this  emergency,  he  determined  on  re- 
storing his  fallen  fortunes  by  writing  a  tragedy,  from  the  proceeds 
of  which  he  hoped  to  be  able  to  perfect  his  education.  It  was 
founded  on  a  passage  in  history,  and  rejoiced  in  the  title  of  "  Alf- 
sol."  He  was  delighted  with  the  first  act,  and  immediately  hur- 
ried off  with  it  to  a  literary  gentleman,  who  heard  it  read  good-hu- 
moredly,  and  did  all  he  could  to  secure  its  reception  by  a  manager. 
The  play  was  returned,  but  the  director  of  the  Theatre  Royal  ac- 
companied the  rejection  with  a  letter,  hi  which  he  said  some  kind 
words  to  the-author,  and  "  expressed  a  hope  that  by  study,  after  go- 
ing to  school,  and  the  previous  knowledge  of  all  that  is  requisite,  he 
might  some  time  be  able  to  write  a  work  which  should  be  worthy 
of  being  acted  on  the  Danish  stage."  In  order,  therefore,  to  obtain 
the  means  for  his  support,  Collin,  the  director  referred  to,  recom- 
mended young  Andersen  to  King  Frederick  the  Sixth,  who  granted 
to  him  a  certain  sum  annually  for  some  years ;  and  by  means  of 
Collin,  also,  the  directors  of  the  High  Schools  allowed  him  to  re- 
ceive free  instruction  in  the  grammar-school  at  Slagelse,  where  a 
new  and  active  rector  had  just  been  appointed.  Dumb  with  as- 
tonishment, he  was  unable  to  sufficiently  thank  the  generous  man 
who  had  thus  interested  himself  in  his  welfare.  He  has  done  it 
subsequently  by  grateful  and  touching  remembrances  in  his  works. 

He  was  a  student  until  September,  1828.  Immediately  after 
the  examination  he  published  his  first  work,  "A  Journey  on  Foot 


HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN.  91 

to  Amack,"  a  sportive,  fantastic  work,  crowded  with  strange  fan- 
cies and  whims.  It  achieved  an  immediate  success,  -and  passed 
through  several  editions  in  a  very  short  time.  •  With  the  proceeds 
of  this  work  he  made  a  tour  through  Jutland  and  Fiinen  in  1830, 
and  in  North  Germany  the  year  following.  On  the  latter  occasion 
lie  left  Denmark  for  the  first  time,  and  saw  much  that  astonished 
his  simple  nature.  The  journey  had  great  influence  on  his  mind, 
Avhich,  by  criticism  and  other  causes,  had  been  brought  into  a  con- 
dition of  morbid  excitability.  His  second  work,  containing  his  im- 
pressions of  this  tour,  was  called  "  Shadow  Pictures."  It  elicited 
some  petty  criticism.  On  one  occasion  a  stuck-up  pedagogue 
asked  him  whether  he  wrote  Dog  with  a  little  d,  having  discov- 
ered such  an  error  in  the  press.  Andersen  jestingly  replied, 
"Yes,  because  I  here  spoke  of  a  little  dog." 

From- the  end  of  the  year  1828  to  the  beginning  of  1839  he 
maintained  himself  solely  by  his  writings.  Denmark  is  a  small 
country ;  but  few  books  at  that  time  went  to  Sweden  and  Norway, 
and  on  that  account  the  profit  could  not  be  great.  He  found  it 
difficult  to  support  the  appearance  necessary  for  his  calling  and 
the  circles  in  which  he  moved.  To  produce  and  always  to  be 
producing  was  destructive,  nay,  impossible.  He  translated  a  few 
pieces  for  the  theatre,  and  wrote  the  text  of  an  opera,  which 
Hartmann  set  to  music.  He  also  worked  up  Sir  Walter  Scott's 
novel  of  the  "Bride  of  Lammermoor"  for  another  young  composer. 
These  necessary  productions — necessary,  because  they  secured  the 
means  and  leisure  for  better  works — were  mercilessly  treated  by 
the  reviewers.  They  denied  him  all  talent,  and  hailed  these  works 
as  an  indication  of  inevitable  decay.  So  prejudiced  were  people 
by  these  attacks,  that  when,  soon  after,  he  printed  a  new  collection 
of  poetry,  called  "  The  Twelve  Months  of  the  Year,"  they  could 
detect  no  merit  in  the  volume,  although  subsequently  they  found 
out  that  it  contained  some  of  the  author's  best  poems.  He  ex- 
perienced much  unkindness  from  his  contemporaries,  and  heaped 
burning  coals  on  their  heads  by  publishing  a  little  volume  called 
"  Vignettes  to  the  Danish  Poets,"  in  which  he  characterized  the 
dead  and  the  living  authors  in  a  few  lines  each,  but  only  spoke 
of  that  which  was  good  in  them.  The  book  excited  attention ; 
it  was  regarded  as  one  of  his  best  works ;  it  was  imitated,  but 
the  critics  did  not  meddle  with  it. 

Shortly  after  this,  Andersen  obtained  a  traveling  stipend  from 


92  SELF-MAUE  MEN. 

government,  and  once  more  set  out  on  his  travels,  praying  to  G(*l 
that  he  might  die  far  away  from  Denmark,  or  return  strengthen- 
ed for  activity,  and»in  a  condition  to  produce  works  which  should 
win  for  him  and  his  beloved  friends  joy  and  honor.  During  his 
sojourn  in  France  and  Switzerland  he  composed  his  poem  "  Agnete 
and  the  Merman,"  a  work  which  possesses  merit,  but  which  met 
with  a  cold  reception.  In  August, -1834,  Andersen  returned  to 
Denmark,  bearing  with  him  the  manuscript,  nearly  completed,  of 
his  best  known  work,  the  "  Improvisatore."  It  was  with  diffi- 
culty that  he  found  a  publisher.  At  length  it  appeared.  Every 
one  was  delighted ;  the  critics  were  silent,  his  sunken  fortunes 
raised,  and  his  position  as  aft  author  of  decided  originality  and 
power  fully  recognized.  Other  tales  and  stories  followed  in  quick 
succession,  and  his  name  became  known  beyond  the  boundaries  of 
his  own  country.  In  1840  he  traveled  into  the  East,  and  on  his 
return  gave  to  the  world,  as  the  fruit  of  his  journey,  the  "  Poets' 
Bazar."  In  1845  he  received  from  his  old  friend  and  patron,  the 
King  of  Denmark,  a  pension,  which  placed  him  beyond  the  reach 
of  want  or  pecuniary  need.  In  the  next  year  he  traveled  through 
Rome,  Naples,  and  the  Pyrenees,  and  wrote  his  "  True  Story  of 
My  Life."  The  following  year  he  visited  England,  and  met  with 
a  hearty  reception,  which  he  has  remembered  in  subsequent  works. 
Mr.  Andersen  is  a  prolific  author.  A  collected  edition  of  his 
works,  published  at  Leipsic  in  1847,  numbered  no  fewer  than  thir- 
ty-five volumes,  and  since  that  time  there  have  been  several  addi- 
tions. He  is  undoubtedly  a  man  of  genius,  but  his  genius  is  more 
quaint  than  comprehensive.  In  fairy  tales  and  brief  stories  he 
shines  to  best  advantage.  The  brightness  and  genial  fervor  of 
his  imagination,  his  poetical  spirit  and  quaint  humor,  combined 
with  unvarying  kindliness,  render  these  little  works  peculiarly  de- 
lightful. They  rank  among  the  very  best  of  their  class,  and  are 
unquestionably  of  enduring  value.  In  his  longer  works  he  is  too 
descriptive,  and  tdb  fond  of  elaboration.  The  wholeness  of  the 
art  production  is  lost  in  the  exaggeration  of  its  details.  In  his 
books  of  travel  there  is  a  strong  current  of  personal  vanity,  which, 
under  Andersen's  treatment,  becomes  a  modest  virtue.  At  first 
it  is  pleasant,  but  constant  iteration  makes  it  tedious.  There  is 
so  much,  however,  that  is  excellent  in  every  thing  Mr.  Andersen 
has  written,  that  no  one  should  deny  himself  the  luxury  of  read- 
ing his  smallest  or  his  greatest  work. 


HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN.  93 

We  will  conclude  this  sketch  of  a  thankful  man  with  a  tranquil 
and  beautiful  quotation  from  the  "True  Story  of  My  Life:" 

"  The  story  of  my  life,  up  to  the  present  hour,  lies  unrolled  be- 
fore me,  so  rich  and  beautiful  that  I  could  not  have  invented  it. 
I  feel  that  I  am  a  child  of  good  fortune ;  almost  every  one  meets 
me  full  of  love  and  candor,  and  seldom  has  my  confidence  in  hu- 
man nature  been  deceived.  From  the  prince  to  the  poorest  peas- 
ant, I  have  felt  the  noble  human  heart  beat.  It  is  a  joy  to  live, 
and  to  believe  in  God  and  man.  Openly  and  full  of  confidence, 
as  if  I  sat  among  dear  friends,  I  have  here  related  the  story  of  my 
life,  have  spoken  both  of  my  sorrows  and  Joys,  and  have  express- 
ed my  pleasure  at  each  mark  of  applause  and  recognition,  as  I 
believe  I  might  even  express  it  before  God  himself.  But,  then, 
whether  this  may  be  vanity  ?  I  know  not ;  my  heart  was  affect- 
ed and  humble  at  the  same  time ;  my  thought  was  gratitude  to 
God.  *  *  *  *  When  the  Christmas  tree  is  lighted — when,  as  peo- 
ple say,  the  white  bees  swarm — I  shall  be,  God  willing,  again  in 
Denmark  with  my  dear  ones,  my  heart  filled  with  the  flowers  of 
travel,  and  strengthened  both  in  body  and  mind.  Then  will  new 
works  grow  upon  paper ;  may  -God  lay  his  blessing  on  them  !  He 
will  do  so.  A  star  of  good  fortune  shines  upon  me ;  there  are 
thousands  who  deserve  it  far  more  than  I.  I  often  myself  can 
not  conceive  why  I,  in  preference  to  numberless  others,  should  re- 
ceive so  much  joy :  may  it  continue  to  shine  !  But  should  it  set, 
perhaps  while  I  conclude  these  lines,  still  it  has  shone ;  I  have 
received  my  rich  portion ;  let  it  set !  From  this,  also,  the  best 
will  spring.  To  God  and  men  my  thanks — my  love !" 


ANTHONY    WAYNE. 

THIS  illustrious  warrior  and  eccentric  man  was  born  in  the 
county  of  Chester,  Pennsylvania,  on  the  1st  of  January,  1745. 
His  parents  were  of  English  descent,  and  owned  a  farm  which 
the  first  immigrant  had  purchased  on  his  arrival.  .Of  Anthony's 
youth  we  have  but  little  knowledge.  A  letter  written  by  his  uncle 
informs  us  that  he  was  not  particularly  smart  in  a  literary  point 
of  view,  but  that  he  would  make  a  good  soldier,  having  already 
distracted  the  brains  of  two  thirds  of  his  schoolmates  with  re- 
hearsals of  battles,  sieges,  etc.  A  reprimand  from  his  father, 
accompanied  with  a  threat  that  he  should  be  taken  from  school 
and  placed  on  the  farm,  turned  Anthony's  attention  more  serious- 
ly to  his  studies ;  he  applied  himself  with  diligence,  and  in  a  few 
months  left  the  academy  prepared  for  a  higher  place  of  instruction. 
He  was  removed  to  the  Philadelphia  Academy,  where  he  remained 
until  his  eighteenth  year.  Shortly  after  this  he  returned  to  his 
native  county,  and  opened  an  office  as  a  land  surveyor.  In  his 
twenty-first  year,  Mr.  Wayne  was  appointed  agent  to  inspect  the 
American  settlements  in  Nova  Scotia :  the  threatening  aspect  of 


ANTHONY  WAYNE.  95 

the  relations  between  the  two  countries  brought  the  undertaking 
to  an  end  in  1767.  In  this  year  Mr.  Wayne  returned  once  more 
to  Chester  County,  bearing  with  him  a  young  and  newly-married 
wife.  He  continued  to  pursue  the  business  of  land  surveyor  until 
duties  of  national  importance  drew  him  from  his  office  to  a  sphere 
of  greater  usefulness. 

At  the  earliest  period  of  the  Revolutionary  struggle,  Mr.  Wayne 
gave  the  whole  of  his  attention  to  the  formation  and  instruction  of 
military  associations.  In  a  very  short  space  of  time  he  succeeded 
in  organizing  a  volunteer  corps  in  his  native  county,  which  soon 
became  remarkable  for  its  efficiency.  Early  in  January,  1776, 
Congress  conferred  on  Mr.  Wayne  the  rank  of  colonel,  and  the 
command  of  one  of  the  four  regiments  required  from  Pennsylvania 
to  re-enforce  the  northern  army.  The  regiment  was  soon  raised, 
and,  under  Colonel  Wayne,  proceeded  to  Canada,  where  it  speedily 
became  a  part  of  Thompson's  brigade.  In  an  unfortunate  expe- 
dition against  the  enemy,  conducted  by  General  Thompson,  Wayne 
distinguished  himself  by  effecting  a  difficult  but  successful  retreat 
for  that  portion  of  the  troops  which  devolved  to  his  command. 
Subsequently,  when  a  retreat  was  ordered  to  Lake  Champlain, 
Wayne  was  assigned  the  duty  of  covering  the  movement  with  the 
Pennsylvania  troops.  The  retreat  had  to  be  conducted  with  great 
expedition,  and  Wayne's  troops  were  scarcely  in  the  boats  when 
the  enemy  came  up.  Owing,  however,  to  the  excellence  of  the 
arrangements,  Ticonderoga  Avas  reached  in  safety  on  the  17th  of 
July. 

The  British  general  advanced  to  Crown  Point,  where  he  com- 
menced a  series  of  careful  reconnoitrings.  The  result  was  unfa- 
vorable to  an  immediate  assault,  and  the  British  general  concluded 
to  defer  it  until  the  following  spring,  withdrawing  his  army  to  Cana- 
da for  the  winter  months.  So  soon  as  this  was  found  to  be  actually 
the  fact,  the  American  general  repaired  to  the  assistance  of  Wash- 
ington, leaving  Ticonderoga  in  charge  of  Wayne,  with  a  garrison 
of  two  thousand  five  hundred  men.  Congress  soon  after  confirmed 
the  trust  by  making  Wayne  a  brigadier  general.  He  remained  at 
Ticonderoga  during  the  winter,  and  in  spripg,  at  his  own  earnest 
solicitation,  joined  the  main  army.  He  arrived  at  head-quarters 
on  the  15th  of  May,  and  was  immediately  placed  at  the  head  of  a 
brigade,  concerning  the  operations  of  which  Washington  expressed 
the  liveliest  expectations.  The  position  of  the  American  com- 


96  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

mander-in-chief  at  Middlebrook  interfered  with  the  operations  of 
the  English  so  severely  that  it  was  determined  to  expulse  him,  if 
possible  (1777).  Several  military  stratagems  were  resorted  to 
to  draw  Washington  into  an  engagement,  but  he  denied  the  en- 
emy the  opportunity  it  sought,  and  remained  carefully  on  the 
defensive.  At  length  the  British  feigned  a  retreat,  and  Wash- 
ington, unwilling  to  lose  what  for  a  moment  seemed  to  be  an 
advantage,  ordered  a  pursuit,  under  the  commands  of  Sullivan, 
Maxwell,  Wayne,  and  Morgan,  while  he,  with  the  main  army, 
was  to  follow  in  person,  in  case  of  engagements.  Owing  to  va- 
rious causes,  two,  only,  out  of  the  four  corps  arrived  in  time  for 
the  pursuit — those  commanded  by  Wayne  and  Morgan.  They 
displayed  great  bravery  and  good  conduct,  but  when  it  was  dis- 
covered that  the  English  general's  retreat  was  merely  a  feint, 
Washington  recovered  his  position  at  Middlebrook,  and  the  pur- 
suit was,  of  course,  abandoned.  The  English  general  retired  to 
New  York,  and  thence  made  preparations  for  a  descent  on  Phila- 
delphia. This  brings  us  to  the  period  of  the  famous  battle  of 
Brandywine.  -.  •*'  - 

The  defense  of  Chad's  Ford,  the  most  accessible  point  on  the  line 
of  English  march,  was  intrusted  to  Wayne,  who  on  this  occasion 
had  a  second  brigade  and  a  portion  of  Proctor's  artillery  added  to 
his  command.  It  is  not  necessary  for  the  purpose  of  this  sketch 
to  narrate  the  accidents  of  the  day,  or  recount  how  the  American 
army  was  driven  from  its  position  by  the  British..  Wayne  was  the 
last  to  leave  the  field ;  in  fact,  he  did  not  know  that  the  Ameri- 
can columns  were  broken  and  scattered  until  after  sunset,  when, 
being  apprised  of  the  fact,  he  withdrew  his  division.  On  the 
16th  an  engagement  took  place  at  Warren  Tavern,  but  a  violent 
shower  of  rain  separated  the  combatants.  The  ammunition  of  the 
Americans  having  become  seriously  injured,  an  immediate  retreat 
became  necessary  to* Parker's  Ferry,  where  a  fresh  supply  could 
be  obtained.  A  change  of  positions  now  took  place,  and  Wayne 
was  appointed  to  watclvthe  enemy,  and  cut  off  baggage  and  hos- 
pital trains.  On  the  20th  of  September,  at  night,  Wayne  was 
attacked  by  the  British  forces,  and,  owing  to  the  negligence  or 
misapprehension  of  an  officer,  lost  one  hundred  and  fifty  men. 
For  this  mishap  he  was  subsequently  tried  by  court-martial. 
After  a  full  and  patient  hearing  of  all  the  testimony  adduced,  the 
court  decided  unanimously  that  "  General  Wayne  was  not  guilty 


ANTHONY  WAYNE.  97 

of  the  charge  exhibited  against  him,  but  that  on  the  night  of  the 
20th  of  September  he  did  every  thing  that  could  be  expected  from 
an  active,  brave,  and  vigilant  officer,  under  the  orders  that  he  then 
had,  and  do  therefore  acquit  him  with  the  highest  honor." 

The  British  established  themselves  at  Germantown,  and  Wash- 
ington conceived  the  bold  project  of  routing  their  camp  by  a  sur- 
prise movement.  For  this  purpose,  the  American  army  marched 
from  Skippack  Creek  in  two  columns  (3d  of  October) ;  that  of 
the  right  composed  of  the  divisions  of  Sullivan  and  Wayne,  with 
Con  way's  brigade ;  the  column  of  the  left  composed  of  the  divisions 
of  Greene  and  Stephens,  with  M'Dougall's  brigade,  and  fourteen 
hundred  Maryland  and  Jersey  militia.  On  reaching  the  summit  of 
Chestnut  Hill  a  brisk  engagement  took  place.  The  enemy  sought 
refuge  in  a  large  stone  house,  and  established  a  galling  fire  on  the 
advancing  columns,  but  without  impeding  the  progress  of  Sullivan 
and  Wayne,  who  pressed  forward  and  met  the  enemy  at  every  point 
with  prowess  and  success.  The  columns  under  the  command  of 
Greene  were  equally  successful,  and  for  a  time  every  thing  seemed 
to  promise  favorable  to  the  American  arms.  On  the  following 
day,  however,  a  serious  reverse  was  experienced.  We  give  the 
account,  of  it  in  the  words  of  Sullivan :  "My  division,  with  the 
North  Carolina  regiment,  commanded  by  Colonel  Armstrong,  and 
a  part  of  Conway's  brigade,  having  driven  the  enemy  a  mile  and 
a  half  below  Chew's  house,  and  finding  themselves  unsupported 
by  any  other  troops,  their  cartridges  all  expended,  the  force  of  the 
enemy  on  the.  right  collecting  on  the  left  to  oppose  them,  being 
alarmed  by  the  firing  at  Chew's  house,  so  far  in  their  rear,  and 
by  the  cry  of  a  light  horseman  on  the  right  that  the  enemy  had 
got  round  us,  and  at  the  same  time  discovering  some  troops  fly- 
ing on  the  right,  retired  with  as  much  precipitation  as  they  had 
before  advanced,  against  every  effort  of  their  officers  to  rally  them. 
When  the  retreat  took  place,  we  had  been  engaged  near  three 
hours,  which,  with  the  march  of  the  preceding  night,  rendered 
them  almost  unfit  for  fighting  or  retreating.  We,  however,  made 
a  safe  retreat,  though  not  a  regular  one.  We  brought  off  all  our 
cannon  and  wounded."  Washington,  writing  on  the  same  subject, 
says  :  "  In  justice  to  the  right  wing  of  the  army  (composed  of  the 
divisions  of  Sullivan  and  Wayne),  whose  conduct  I  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  observing,  as  they  acted  immediately  under  my  eye,  I 
have  the  greatest  pleasure  to  inform  you  that  both  the  officers 

£ 


98  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

and  men  behaved  with  a  degree  of  gallantry  which  did  them  the 
highest  honor." 

After  this  lamentable  defeat,  Wayne  was  detached  on  a  fora- 
ging expedition,  and  by  coolness  and  determination  succeeded  in 
making  valuable  contributions  to  the  scanty  commissariat  of  the 
American  army.  We  hasten  now  to  that  celebrated  event  in 
American  history  which  owes  all  its  lustre  to  the  bravery  of 
Wayne — we  refer  to  the  capture  of  Stony  Point.  This  was  one 
of  the  strongest  positions  of  the  enemy,  and,  fully  aware  of  the 
fact,  no  precautions  had  been  spared  to  make  it  impregnable.  On 
two  sides  it  was  protected  by  the  Hudson ;  on  the  third  by  a 
marsh  ;  the  remaining  approach  was  strongly  fortified,  and  garri- 
soned with  six  hundred  soldiers.  Wayne  surveyed  the  place  with 
a  determination  to  find  an  opening,  and  soon  took  up  his  posi- 
tion within  a  mile  and  a  half  of  his  object.  We  quote  the  follow- 
ing account  of  the  attack  from  Mr.  Armstrong's  sketch  of  the 
hero :  "  By  the  organization  given  to  the  attack,  the  regiments  of 
Ferbiger  and  Meigs,  with  Hull's  detachment,  formed  the  column 
of  the  right,  and  the  regiment  of  Butler  and  Murfey's  detachment 
that  of  the  left.  A  party  of  twenty  men,  furnished  with  axes  for 
pioneer  duty,  and  followed  by  a  sustaining  corps  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty  men  with  unloaded  arms,  preceded  each  column,  while 
a  small  detachment  was  assigned  to  purposes  merely  of  demon- 
stration. At  half  past  eleven  o'clock,  the  hour  fixed  on  for  the 
assault,  the  columns  were  in  motion ;  but,  from  delays  made  iiv 
evitable  by  the  nature  of  the  ground,  it  was  twenty  minutes  after 
twelve  before  this  commenced;  when  neither  the  morass,  now 
overflowed  by  the  tide,  nor  the  formidable  and  double  row  of  aba- 
tis, nor  the  high  and  strong  works  on  the  summit  of  the  hill,  could 
for  a  moment  damp  the  ardor  or  stop  the  career  of  the  assailants, 
who,  in  the  face  of  an  incessant  fire  of  musketry,  and  a  shower  of 
shells  and  grape-shot,  forced  their  way  through  every  obstacle, 
and  with  so  much  concert  of  movement  that  both  columns  en- 
tered the  fort  and  reached  its  centre  nearly  at  the  same  moment. 
Nor  was  the  conduct  of  the  victors  less  conspicuous  for  humanity 
than  for  valor.  Not  a  man  of  the  garrison  was  injured  after  the 
surrender,  and  during  the  conflict  of  battle  all  were  spared  who 
ceased  to  make  resistance. 

"  The  entire  American  loss  in  this  enterprise,  so  formidable  in 
prospect,  did  not  exceed  one  hundred  men.    The  pioneer  parties, 


ANTHONY  WAYNE.  99 

necessarily  the  most  exposed,  suffered  most.  Of  the  twenty  jnen 
led  by  Lieutenant  Gibbons,  of  the  sixth  Pennsylvania  regiment, 
seventeen  were  killed  or  wounded.  Wayne's  own  escape  on  this 
occasion  was  of  the  hair-breadth  kind.  Struck  on  the  head  by  a 
musket  ball,  he  fell ;  but,  immediately  rising  on  one  knee,  he  ex- 
claimed, '  March  on !  carry  me  into  the  fort ;  for,  should  the 
wound  be  mortal,  I  will  die  at  the  head  of  the  column.'  " 

In  commemoration  of  this  brilliant  exploit,  regarded  by  mili- 
tary writers  as  the  most  gallant  and  remarkable  of  the  campaign, 
Congress  directed  a  gold  medal  to  be  struck  emblematical  of  the 
action.  From  the  commander-in-chief,  and  from  all  quarters, 
Wayne  received  the  most  flattering  testimonials  of  esteem  and  ad- 
miration. He  was  the  most  renowned  chieftain  of  the  day. 

In  1781,  Wayne  accompanied  La  Fayette  to  the  South,  in  or- 
der to  put  an  end  to  the  ravages  of  the  British  in  that  section  of 
the  country.  They  followed  closely  on  the  tracks  of  Cornwallis, 
and  at  length  heard  that  the  main  body  of  the  British  army  had 
succeeded  in  crossing  Jamestown  Ferry,  but  that  a  rear  guard  of 
ordinary  force  remained  behind.  La  Fayette  determined  that  this 
should  be  cut  off,  if  possible,  and  directed  Wayne  to  advance  with 
seven  hundred  men  to  effect  the  object.  Wayne  did  so  with  his 
usual  coolness  and  dispatch,  and  succeeded  in  driving  in  the  ene- 
my's pickets,  but,  very  unexpectedly,  he  found  that  he  had  fallen 
into  a  trap,  and,  instead  of  being  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  rear 
guard  of  the  army,  was  within  fifty  yards  of  the  main  body.  At 
this  critical  moment  Wayne's  daring  came  to  his  rescue.  Instead 
of  retreating  in  confusion,  he  made  a  bold  charge,  and  so  perplex- 
ed the  enemy  with  the  manoeuvre  that  he  succeeded  in  escaping 
with  a  much  smaller  loss  than  would  otherwise  have  been  the 
case.  Subsequently  Wayne  was  employed  in  Georgpi,  where  he 
succeeded  in  bringing  the  enemy  into  a  state  of  comparative  harm- 
lessness  in  spite  of  very  insufficient  means.  The  treaty  of  peace 
which  followed  the  evacuation  of  Charleston  enabled  Wayne  to 
return  to  his  own  fireside  in  Pennsylvania,  after  an  absence  of 
seven  years.  Soon  after  he  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Council 
of  Censors,  and  subsequently  to  a  seat  in  the  Convention  to  re- 
vise and  amend  the  Constitution  of  the  State.  He  was  not,  how- 
ever, destined  to  a  long  civil  career.  Although  the  war  with  En- 
gland was  at  an  end,  the  Indians  still  continued  their  depreda- 
tions and  hostilities.  Two  unsuccessful  attempts  had  been  made 


100  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

to  subdue  them.  It  was  now  determined  to  organize  an  army  suf- 
ficiently powerful  to  act  with  vigor,  and  leave  the  rest  with  Gen- 
eral Wayne,  to  whom  the  command  was  intrusted. 

Wayne  began  his  march  from  a  camp  near  the  site  of  the  pres- 
ent town  of  Cincinnati,  and  on  the  8th  of  August,  1794,  reached 
the  Indian  settlements,  the  destruction  of  which  formed  the  first 
object  of  the  enterprise.  On  the  19th,  after  repeated  attempts  to 
bring  the  savages  peaceably  to  terms,  the  army  marched  on  to  the 
position  taken  by  the  Indians,  a  strong  one  naturally  and  arti- 
ficially, and  protected  with  two  thousand  of  their  best  fighting 
men.  Wayne's  advanced  guard  was  briskly  attacked  from  a 
thicket,  made  up  of  tall  grass  and  underwood,  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes the  action  commenced.  The  Indians  and  Canadians  were 
routed  with  great  loss.  "  We  remained,"  says  General  Wayne, 
in  his  dispatch,  "  three  days  and  nights  on  the  banks  of  the  Mi- 
ami, in  front  of  the  field  of  battle,  during  which  time  all  the 
houses  and  corn  were  consumed,  or  otherwise  dest^j^ed  for  a  con- 
siderable distance  both  above  and  below  Fort  Miami ;  and  we 
were  within  pistol-shot  of  the  garrison  of  that  place,  who  were 
compelled  to  remain  quiet  spectators  of  this  general  devastation 
and  conflagration."  This  severe  but  necessary  treatment  was 
pursued  until  the  enemy  sued  for  peace.  A  treaty  was  at  once 
drawn  up,  and  the  war  brought  to  a  satisfactory  termination. 
Complimentary  resolutions  were  unanimously  passed  by  the  Con- 
gress then  in  session,  and  President  and  people  alike  vied  in  the 
cordial  expression  of  their  gratitude  to  a  noble  old  warrior  newly 
returned  from  the  wars. 

The  last  mark  of  confidence  which  General  Wayne  received 
from  the  government  was  his  appointment  as  commissioner  for 
treating  witj|  the  Northwestern  Indians,  and  as  receiver  of  the 
military  posts  given  up  by  the  British  government.  The  duties 
attached  to  these  offices  he  discharged  in  his  usual  punctual  man- 
ner, and  proceeded  from  the  West  on  his  way  homeward.  While 
descending  Lake  Erie  from  Detroit,  he  was  attacked  by  the  gout 
with  such  severity  that  in  a  few  days  his  life  and  his  labors  were 
brought  to  a  sudden  termination.  His  remains  were  temporarily 
buried  on  the  shore  of  the  lake,  but  in  1809  they  were  removed 
to  the  cemetery  of  St.  David's  Church,  in  Chester  County,  Penn- 
sylvania. A  monument  recalling  the  patriotic  achievements  of 
his  life  was  placed  over  the  grave,  and  still  marks  the  spot  where 
lie.  the  remains  of  a  true  warrior  patriot. 


EMMANUEL    KANT. 

EMMANUEL  KAKT,  the  illustrious  founder  of  the  philosophical 
school  which  succeeded  that  of  Liebnitz,  was  a  native  of  Konigs- 
berg,  in  Prussia,  where  he  was  born  on  the  22d  of  April,  1724. 
His  father  was  a  saddler,  and  of  Scotch  descent.  The  elder  Kant 
is  described  as  a  man  of  superior  intelligence  and  inflexible  moral 
character.  His  wife  was  an  estimable  woman,  pious  and  devoted 
in  her  ministrations.  "  I  never,"  said  Emmanuel  Kant,  "  saw  or 
heard  in  my  father's  family  any  thing  inconsistent  with  honor,  pro- 
priety, or  truth."  From  his  earliest  days  he  was  thus  placed  on 
the  right  path.  Bred  in  the  love  of  truth,  and  with  such  examples 
of  moral  worth  before  him,  it  is  not  remarkable  that  he  became 
eminent  for  his  good  life  as  for  his  great  mind. 

At  the  proper  age  he  received  the  usual  instruction  of  the  com- 
mon schools,  and  as  he  displayed  diligence  and  capacity,  it  was 
determined  that  his  studies  should  be  continued  in  the  higher 
seminaries.  Here  he  pursued  a  peaceful  course  of  severe,  sys- 
tematic, and  persevering  study.  He  learned  all  that  could  be 
learned  in  the  circle  of  language,  history,  and  science.  He  car- 
ried into  each  department  of  this  extensive  field  that  scrutinizing 
spirit  and  that  avidity  for  knowledge  which  afford  no  rest  to  the 
mind  until  it  has  explored  the  whole  surface  of  the  ground  and 
examined  its  nature,  sounded  its  depth,  ascertained  the  limits  of 
the  portion  already  cultivated,  and  determined  what  yet  remains 
to  be  accomplished. 

Kant's  life  was  purely  scholastic.  His  intellectual  career  began 
and  ended  at  the  University.  For  his  offices  and  his  fortune  he 
was  indebted  solely  to  the  usual  course  of  academic  advancement, 
lie  supported  himself  first  as  a  teacher  in  private  families ;  in 
1755  he  became  doctor  of  philosophy,  and  for  fifteen  years  was 
only  one  of  the  privatim  docentes  without  salary,  although  his  lec- 
tures were  much  frequented ;  in  1766  he  was  made  under-libra- 
rian,  with  a  miserable  support,  and  obtained  at  last,  in  1770,  the 
chair  of  professor  of  logic  and  metaphysics.  In  1786-88  he  was 
rector  of  the  University;  in  1787  inscribed  among  the  members 


102  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

of  the  Academy  of  Berlin,  and  died  without  seeing  any  dignity 
added  to  his  title  of  professor,  excepting  that  of  Senior  of  the 
Philosophical  Faculty.  This  was  his  worldly  career,  and  con- 
cerning it  Madame  de  Stiiel  has  remarked  that  there  is  scarcely 
another  example,  except  among  the  Greeks,  of  a  life  so  rigorously 
philosophical.  He  lived  to  a  great  age,  and  never  once  quitted 
the  snows  of  murky  Konigsberg.  There  he  passed  a  calm  and 
happy  existence,  meditating,  professing,  and  writing.  He  had 
mastered  all  the  sciences ;  he  had  studied  languages,  and  culti- 
vated literature.  He  lived  and  died  a  type  of  the  German  pro- 
fessor:  he  rose,  smoked,  took  his  coffee,  wrote,  lectured,  and  took 
his  daily  walk  at  precisely  the  same  hour.  The  Cathedral  clock, 
it  was  said,  was  not  more  punctual  in  its  movements  than  Em- 
manuel Kant.  Mathematics  and  physics  principally  occupied  his 
attention  at  first,  and  the  success  with  which  he  pursued  these 
studies  was  soon  made  manifest  in  various  publications.  He  be- 
came renowned  as  a  profound  logician  and  natural  philosopher. 
An  instance  of  his  wonderful. powers  of  speculative  reasoning  and 
deduction  was  the  prediction  of  the  existence  of  the  planet  Uranus 
long  before  it  was  known  by  astronomers.  He  argued  that  it  should 
be  in  a  certain  position,  and  Herschel,  whose  attention  was  thus 
directed  to  the  subject,  found  it  there.  Other  conjectures  on  the 
system  of  the  world,  the  Milky  Way,  the  nebulae,  the  ring  of  Sat- 
urn, were  also  confirmed  by  the  same  eminent  astronomer  thirty 
years  after  they  had  been  uttered  by  the  illustrious  subject  of  this 
sketch. 

Kant's  fame  as  the  greatest  philosopher  and  metaphysician  of  the 
age  dates  from  the  publication  of  his  "  Critique  of  Pure  Reason" 
(1781),  an  examination  of  the  faculty  of  knowledge,  of  the  powers 
which  concur  in  its  exercise,  of  their  laws,  of  the  play  of  their 
operations,  and  of  the  effects  thence  resulting  fgr  man,  relatively 
to  the  impressions  which  he  receives,  to  the  judgments  which  he 
makes,  to  the  conceptions  which  he  forms,  and  to  the  ideas  to 
which  reason  elevates  itself.  This  work  was  the  product  of 
twelve  years'  meditation,  although  written  in  five  months.  The 
novelty  of  its  views,  the  toughness  of  its  terminology  and  style, 
for  some  time  obscured  its  real  value.  When  it  became  known, 
all  Germany  went  wild  with  the  new  philosophy.  Almost  every 
"  chair"  was  filled  by  a"  Kantist.  Endless  books  and  pamphlets 
came  from  the  press,  defending  or  attacking  the  principles  of  the 


EMMANUEL  KANT.  103 

critical  philosophy.  Kant  had  likened  himself  to  Copernicus; 
his  disciples  likened  him  both  to  Copernicus  and  Newton.  He 
had  not  only  changed  the  whole  science  of  metaphysics,  as  Co- 
pernicus had  changed  the  science  of  astronomy,  but  had  also  con- 
summated the  science  he  had  originated.  Kant  published  many 
other  works,  in  the  smallest  of  which  the  profoundest  meditations 
are  to  be  found. 

He  became  famous,  and  had  to  endure  the  penalty  of  popular- 
ity. Bores  from  all  parts  of  the  jprorld  broke  in  upon  his  privacy. 
It  was  with  the  greatest  reluctance  that  he  satisfied  the  curiosity 
of  his  visitors,  for  he  was  modest  and  simple  to  a  fault.  In  the 
latter  part  of  his  life  he  would  only  show  himself  for  a  few  min- 
utes at  the  door  of  his  study,  and  express  to  his  visitors  his  aston- 
ishment at  their  curiosity.  He  would  then  return  to  his  private 
friends  and  say,  "  I  have  seen  to-day  some  noble  virtuosi."  He 
never  spoke  of  his  philosophy ;  and  while  it  was  the  subject  of 
conversation  among  the  most  enlightened  men  in  all  the  countries 
where  the  language  and  literature  of  Germany  prevail,  from  his 
house  it  was  entirely  banished.  It  is  said  that  he  hardly  ever 
read  any  of  the  works  in  which,  during  twenty  years,  his  principles 
(we  have  refrained  from  referring  to  them  on  account  of  the  utter 
impossibility  of  merely  indicating  their  scope  in  a  brief  article) 
were  attacked,  defended,  developed,  and  applied  to  all  the  branches 
of  human  knowledge. 

The  greatest  enjoyment  of  the  latter  years  of  his  life  was  to 
invite  to  his  table  a  few  intimate  friends,  and  discuss  with  them 
the  events  of  the  French  Revolution,  in  which  he  took  great  in- 
terest. His  gay  and  instructive  conversation  was  in  the  highest 
degree  delightful.  His  manners  were  simple  and  pure.  Owing 
to  the  srnallness  of  his  income,  he  was  unable  to  take  upon  himself 
the  responsibilities  of  a  wife  and  family,  although  he  was  far  from 
being  indifferent  to  the  charms  and  graces  of  the  opposite  sex. 

On  the  24th  of  February,  1804,  this  intellectual  giant  passed 
to  the  land  of  shadows.  He  was  fully  conscious  of  the  approach- 
ing dissolution,  and  nearly  the  last  words  he  uttered  were  these : 
"  I  do  not  fear  death  ;  I  know  how  to  die.  I  assure  you,  before 
God,  that  if  I  knew  that  this  night  was  to  be  my  last,  I  would 
raise  my  hands  and  say,  God  be  praised.  The  case  would  be 
far  different  if  I  had  ever  caused  the  misery  of  any  one  of  his 
creatures." 


104  SELF-MADE  MKX. 

Kant  was  of  small  stature,  and  fine,  delicate  complexion.  He 
was  distinguished  by  the  strictest  veracity,  and  by  an  extreme  at- 
tention to  avoid  every  thing  which  could  give  pain,  if  the  inter- 
ests of  truth  did  not  require  it.  He  was  affable,  benevolent  with- 
out ostentation,  and  thankful  for  any  attentions  which  he  received. 
During  his  last  illness  he  was  frequently  so  much  moved  by  the 
attentions  of  an  old  male  servant,  that  it  was  with  the  greatest 
difficulty  the  latter  could  prevent  his  master  from  kissing  his 
hand.  It  was  discovered  after  ^iis  death  that,  although  a  poor 
man  all  his  life,  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  dispensing  more  than 
eleven  hundred  florins  annually  out  of  his  small  earnings  to  poor 
relations  and  indigent  families. 

"  Such,"  says  Professor  Stapfer  (to  whom  we  are  indebted  for 
the  materials  of  this  sketch),  "  was  the  extraordinary  man  who 
has  agitated  the  human  mind  to  a  greater  depth  than  any  of  the 
philosophers  of  the  same  rank  before  him.  The  opinions  on  the 
permanent  result  of  his  analysis  of  the  human  faculties  are  natu- 
rally exceedingly  diverse.  His  faithful  disciples — of  whom  the 
number,  it  is  true,  is  much  diminished — regard  him  as  the  New- 
ton, or,  at  least,  the  Kepler  of  the  intellectual  world.  Beyond 
his  own  school,  many  ascribe  to  his  principles  that  revival  of  pa- 
triotic and  generous  sentiments,  that  return  of  vigor  of  mind,  and 
that  disinterested  zeal,  which  have  of  late  years  manifested  them- 
selves in  Germany,  so  much  to  the  honor  of  the  nation,  to  the 
success  of  her  independence,  and  advantage  of  the  moral  sciences. 
A  numerous  party  accuse  him  of  having  created  a  barbarous  term- 
inology, making  unnecessary  innovations  for  the  purpose  of  envel- 
oping himself  in  an  obscurity  almost  impenetrable — of  having  pro- 
duced systems  absurd  and  dangerous,  and  increased  the  uncer- 
tainty respecting  the  most  important  interests  of  man  ;  of  haying, 
by  the  illusion  of  talent,  turned  the  attention  of  youth  from  posi- 
tive studies  to  consume  their  time  in  vain  speculations ;  of  hav- 
ing, by  his  transcendental  idealism,  conducted  his  rigidly  conse- 
quent disciples,  some  to  absolute  idealism,  others  to  skepticism, 
others,.again,  to  a  new  species  of  Spin9sism,  and  all  to  systems 
equally  absurd  and  dangerous.  They  farther  accuse  his  doctrine 
of  being  in  itself  a  tissue  of  extravagant  hypothesis  and  contra- 
dictory theories,  of  which  the  result  is  to  make  us  regard  man  as 
a  creature  discordant  and  fantastic.  They  accuse  him,  finally,  of 
having,  by  his  demanding  more  than  stoical  efforts,  produced  in 


EMMANUEL  KANT.  105 

the  mind  discouragement  and  uncertainty,  much  more  than  the 
germs  of  active  virtue,  confidence,  and  security.  There  is,  un- 
doubtedly, exaggeration  in  both  these  extreme  opinions.  The 
disciples  of  Socrates  departed  still  farther  from  his  doctrines  than 
those  of  Kant  have  from  the  principles  of  criticism  ;  yet  who  will 
deny  the  merit  of  Socrates,  or  his  salutary  influence  ?" 

E  2 


JOHANN  GOTTLIEB  FICHTE. 

JOHANN  GOTTLIEB  FICHTE  was  the  son  of  a  poor  peasant  couple 
who  resided  at  Rammeneau,  in  Upper  Lusatia,  Prussia,  where  he 
was  born  on  the  19th  of  May,  1762.  From  his  earliest  infancy 
he  gave  indications  of  unusual  mental  capacity  and  great  moral 
energy,  for  both  of  which  he  was  afterward  famous.  He  was  a 
precocious  child,  and  long  before  he  was  old  enough  to  be  sent  to 
school  had  learned  many  things  from  his  father,  who  taught  him 
to  read  and  to  remember  the  pious  songs  and  proverbs  which 
formed  his  own  simple  stock  of  erudition.  He  was  not  much  be- 
yond his  simple  station,  but  he  had  traveled  in  Saxony  and  Fran- 
conia,  and  had  observed  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  people, 
and  was  especially  well  informed  in  their  fables  and  romances. 

These  he  would  recite  to  the  little  Johann  as  he  sat  in  the  warm 

- 

sunshine  listening  with  eagerness  to  all  that  was  wonderful  and 
strange.  When  left  to  himself  he  would  wander  in  the  fields, 
leaving  his  boisterous  companions  in  order  that  he  might  turn 
over  in  his  own  mind  all  that  he  had  heard.  Probably  he 
dreamed  of  unspeakable  joys  in  roaming  free  and  happy  through 
the  world,  and  seeing  and  remembering  every  thing.  Whatever 
were  his  meditations,  he  loved  solitude,  and  would  stand  for  hours 
gazing  into  the  far  distance,  and  dreaming  methodically,  like  a 
young  philosopher,  of  what  might  be.  At  home  he  read  the  fam- 
ily prayers  with  so  much  feeling  and  propriety,  that  his  father 
fondly  hoped  he  might  one  day  see  him  in  the  pulpit.  An  event 
curious  in  itself,  and  very  important  in  its  influence  on  his  sub- 
sequent career,  soon  occurred,  which  favored  that  hope,  and  went 
far  to  realize  it.  But,  before  we  relate  it,  we  must  give  a  touch- 
ing anecdote,  wMfch  exhibits  Fichte's  heroic  self-command  in  a 
very  interesting  light. 

The  first  book  which  fell  into  his  hands  after  the  Bible  and 
Catechism  was  the  renowned  history  of  "  Siegfried  the  Horned," 
and  it  seized  so  powerfully  on  his  imagination  that  he  lost  all 
pleasure  in  any  other  employment,  became  careless  and  neglect- 
ful, and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  was  punished.  Then,  in  the 


JOHANN  GOTTLIEB  FICHTE.  107 

spirit  of  the  injunction  which  tells  us  to  cut  off  our  right  hand  if 
it  cause  us  to  offend,  Fichte  resolved  to  sacrifice  the  beloved  book, 
and,  taking  it  in  his  hand,  walked  slowly  to  a  stream  flowing  past 
the  house,  with  the  intention  of  throwing  it  in.  Long  he  linger- 
ed on  the  bank  ere  he  could  muster  courage  for  this  first  self- 
conquest  of  his  life  ;<fout  at  length,  summoning  all  his  resolution, 
he  flung  it  into  the  water.  His  fortitude  gave  way  as  he  saw  the 
treasure,  too  dearly  loved,  floating  away  forever,  and  he  burst  into 
a  passionate  flood  of  tears.  Just  at  this  moment  the  father  ar- 
rived on  the  spot,  and  the  weeping  child  told  what  he  had  done, 
but,  either  from  timidity  or  incapacity  to  explain  his  feelings,  was 
silent  as  to  his  true  motive.  Irritated  at  this  treatment  of  hjLs 
present,  Fichte's  father  inflicted  upon  him  an  unusually  severe 
punishment ;  and  this  occurrence  formed  a,  fitting  prelude  to  his 
after-life,  in  which  he  was  so  often  misunderstood,  and  the  ae- 
tions  springing  from  the  purest  convictions  of  duty  were  exactly 
those  for  which  he  had  most  to  suffer.  When  a  sufficient  time 
had  elapsed  for  the  offense  to  be  in  some  measure  forgotten,  the 
father  brought  home  another  of  these  seducing  books ;  but  Fichte 
dreaded  being  again  exposed  to  the  temptation,  and  begged  that 
it  might  rather  be  given  to  some  of  the  other  children. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  other  event  before  alluded  to 
occurred.  The  clergyman  of  the  village,  who  had  taken  a  fancy 
to  Gottlieb,  and  had  often  assisted  in  his  instruction,  happened  one 
day  to  ask  him  how  much  he  thought  he  could  remember  of  the 
sermon  of  the  preceding  clay.  Fichte  made  the  attempt,  and,  to 
the  astonishment  of  the  pastor,  succeeded  in  giving  a  very  tolera- 
ble account  of  the  course  of  argument,  as  well  as  the  texts  quoted 
in  its  illustration.  The  circumstance  was  mentioned  to  the  Count 
von  Hoffmansegg,  the  lord  of  the  village  ;  and  when  one  day  an- 
other nobleman,  the  Baron  von  Mittie,  who  was  on  a  visit  to  the 
castle,  happened  to  express  his  regret  at  having  been  too  late  for 
the  sermon  on  the  Sunday  morning,  he  was  told,  half  in  jest,  that 
it  was  of  little  consequence,  for  that  there  was^a  boy  in  the  vil- 
lage who  could  repeat  it  all  from  memory.  Little  Gottlieb  was 
sent  for,  and  soon  arrived  in  a  clean  smock  frock,  and  bearing  a 
large  nosegay,  such  as  his  mother  was  accustomed  to  send  to  the 
castle  occasionally  as  a  token  of  respect.  .  He  answered  the  first 
questions  put  to  him  with  his  accustomed  quiet  simplicity;  but 
when  asked  to  repeat  as  much  as  he  could  recollect  of  the  morn- 


108  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

* 

ing's  sermon,  his  voice  and  manner  became  more  animated,  and, 
as  he  proceeded,  entirely  forgetting  the  presence  of  the  formida- 
ble  company,  he  became  so  fervid  and  abundant  in  his  eloquence 
that  the  count  thought  it  necessary  to  interrupt  him,  lest  the  play- 
ful tone  of  the  circle  should  be  destroyed  by  the  serious  subjects 
of  the  sermon.  The  young  preacher  had,  However,  made  some 
impression  on  his  auditory ;  the  baron  made  inquiries  concerning 
him ;  and  the  clergyman,  wishing  for  nothing  more  than  an  oppor- 
tunity to  serve  his  favorite,  gave  such  an  account  that  the  baron 
determined  to  undertake  the  charge  of  his  education.  The  next 
day  the  young  Gottlieb  was  on  his  way  to  the  Castle  of  Sieben- 
eyjhen,  in  Saxony,  near  Meissen,  on  the  Elbe.  One  of.  his  most 
ardent  desires,  namely,  to  travel,  was  about  to  be  gratified.  Like 
many  other  pleasures  in  this  world,  it  was  more  of  the  imagina- 
tion than  experience.  Visions  of  his  own  peaceful  home,  and  of 
the  kind  friends  he  had  left  there,  crowded  upon  him,  and  his 
heart  sunk  within  him  as  the  distance  lengthened.  The  melan- 
choly grandeur  of  the  baronial  halls  to  which  he  was  transported 
did  not  add  to  his  peace  of  mind.  He  became  thoroughly  wretch- 
ed— so  deeply  dejected  that  his  health  began  to  fail.  Fortunate- 
ly, his  noble  patron  was  a  man  of  sense  and  delicacy.  He  traced 
the  cause  of  the  boy's  ailings  to  the  right  source,  and  in  a  kindly 
and  liberal  spirit  removed  him  from  the  cold  shadow  of  the  castle 
to  the  domestic  circle  of  a  neighboring  clergyman.  Once  more 
within  the  influence  of  moral  precept  and  support,  his  spirits  re- 
vived rapidly.  Some  of  the  happiest  years  of  his  life  were  passed 
beneath  the  roof  of  this  estimable  man  and  his  admirable  spouse, 
toward  whom  Fichte  always  preserved  the  warmest  affection  and 
gratitude.  They  treated  him  as  if  he  were  their  son,  and  as  such 
he  remembered  them. 

It  was  here  that  he  received  his  first  instruction  in  the  learned 
languages.  When  his  kind  preceptor  could  teach  him  no  more, 
he  was  transferred  to  the  High  School  at  Meissen,  and  afterward 
to  the  seminary  at  Schulpforte.  The  monastic  gloom  of  the  latter 
establishment,  added  to  many  unpleasant  customs  which  prevailed 
among  the  pupils,  filled  him  once  more  with  melancholy.  He  shed 
tears  plentifully,  and  was  jeered  at  contemptuously  by  his  compan- 
ions. Sensibility  is  not  an  ordinary  weakness  of  schoolbpys,  and 
in  a  large  public  establishment  where  flogging  prevails,  it  is  brought 
down  to  its  lowest  standard.  Fichte,  who  was  yet  but  thirteen 


JOHANN  GOTTLIEB  FICHTE.  109 

years  of  age,  felt  every  unkind  word  most  acutely.  It  was  in  vain 
that  he  looked  for  a  kindred  spirit  to  pour  balmy  consolation  into 
his  bleeding  wounds.  It  was  natural,  therefore,  that  the  idea  of 
escape,  should  occur  to  his  mind.  The  dread,  however,  of  being 
retaken  and  brought  back  again  in  disgrace  made  him  pause. 
While  brooding  over  this  project,  it  happened  that  he  met  with  a 
copy  of  "  Robinson  Crusoe" — that  thing  of  beauty,  that  joy  for- 
ever to  the  youthful  world.  His  enthusiasm  was  now  unbounded. 
No  longer  would  he  hesitate.  He  would  flee  to  the  desert,  and 
make  it  his  dwelling-place  —  selecting  the  desert,  probably,  on 
account  of  the  advantages  it  offered  of  seeing  any  one  who  might 
happen  to  be  in  pursuit.  The  manner  in  which  he  carried  this 
curious  idea  into  execution  was  remarkable.  Nothing  could  have 
been  easier  than  for  him  to  have  taken  his  departure  unperceived 
on  one  of  the  days  when  the  scholars  were  allowed  to  go  to  the 
playground,  but  he  scorned  to  steal  away  in  secret ;  he  would 
have  the  matter  appear  as  the  result  of  necessity  and  calm  determ- 
ination. He  therefore  made  a  formal  declaration  to  his  superior, 
a  tyrannous  lad  who  had  much  abused  his  brief  authority,  that 
he  would  no  longer  endure  the  treatment  he  received,  but  would 
leave  the  place  at  the  first  opportunity.  The  announcement  was 
of  course  received  with  jeers  and  laughter,  which  only  added  to 
Fichte's  determination.  He  then  procured  a  map,  and  carefully 
studied  the  route  which  he  proposed  to  take.  Having  made  him- 
self master  of  this,  he  found  his  opportunity,  and  set  off  on  foot 
in  the  direction  of  the  town  of  Naumburg.  As  he  walked,  how- 
ever, he  bethought  himself  of  a  saying  of  his  dear  old  pastor,  that 
one  should  never  begin  an  important  undertaking  without  asking 
the  blessing  of  Heaven.  He  dropped  on  his  knees  by  the  road 
side,  and  implored  the  Divine  assistance  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 
While  thus  engaged,  the  thought  flashed  across  his  mind  that  his 
absence  would  occasion  much  grief  to  his  parents — that  he  might 
never,  perhaps,  see  them  more.  He  was  so  overcome -with  this  ter- 
rible thought  that  he  resolved  to  retrace  his  steps,  and  meet  all  the 
punishments  that  might  be  in  store  for  him,  "  that  he  might  look 
once  more  on  the  face  of  his  mother."  God  had  hearkened  to  the 
prayer  of  the  innocent,  and  guided  his  footsteps. 

The  school  was  already  in  an  uproar,  and  scouts  were  out  in  ev- 
ery direction  in  pursuit  of  the  runaway.  He  was  immediately 
carried  before  the  rector,  and  at  once  confessed  that  he  had  intend- 


HO  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ed  to  escape.  With  child-like  simplicity  and  frankness  he  related 
the  whole  story,  his  hesitation,  and  the  cause  of  his  return.  The 
rector  not  only  remitted  his  punishment,  but  became  his  friend, 
and  placed  him  under  another  master,  who  treated  him  with  ex- 
treme kindness. 

He  continued  his  studies  until  he  was  sufficiently  advanced  to 
become  a  candidate  for  holy  orders.  •  Unfortunately,  at  this  crit- 
ical epoch,  his  generous  patron,  the  baron,  died,  and  all  hopes  of 
becoming  a  clergyman  were  at  an  end.  It  became  necessary  that 
he  should  go  out  in  the  world  and  seek  his  own  way  in  it.  For- 
tunately, he  was  offered  the  situation  of  private  tutor  to  a  family 
in  Switzerland.  He  at  once  closed  with  the  parties,  and  for  two 
years  discharged  the  irksome  duties  incidental  to  the  position  he 
had  taken.  He  then  proceeded  to  Leipsic,  where  he  gave  lessons 
in  Greek  and  philosophy,  and  for  the  first  time  became  acquainted 
with  the  writings  of  Kant.  This  was  an  important  event  in  his 
life,  and  threw  him  into  raptures.  "  I  have  been  living,"  he  writes, 
"  for  the  last  four  or  five  months  in  Leipsic  the  happiest  life  I  can 
remember.  I  came  here  with  my  head  full  of  grand  projects,  which 
:ill  burst  one  after  another,  like  so  many  soap-bubbles,  without 
leaving  me  so  much  as  the  froth.  At  first  this  troubled  me  a  lit- 
tle, and,  half  in  despair,  I  took  a  step  which  I  ought  to  have  taken 
long  before.  Since  I  could  not  alter  what  was  without  me,  I  re- 
solved to  alter  what  was  within.  I  threw  myself  into  philosophy 
— the  Kantian,  videlicet — and  here  I  found  the  true  antidote  for 
all  my  evils,  and  joy  enough  into  the  bargain.  The  influence 
which  this  philosophy,  particularly  the  ethical  part  of  it  (which, 
however,  is  unintelligible  without  a  previous  study  of  the  "Critique 
of  Pure  Reason"),  has  had  upon  my  whole  system  of  thought,  the 
revolution  which  it  has  effected  in  my  mind,  is  not  to  be  described. 
To  you,  especially,  I  owe  the  declaration  that  I  now  believe  with 
my  whole  heart  in  free-will,  and  that  I  see  that  under  this  sup- 
position alone  can  duty,  virtue,  and  morality  have  any  existence. 
From  the  opposite  proposition,  of  the  necessity  of  all  human  ac- 
tions, must  flow  the  most  injurious  consequences  to  society,  and 
it  may,  in  fact,  be  in  part  the  source  of  the  corrupt  morals  of  the 
higher  classes  which  we  hear  so  much  of.  Should  any  one  adopt- 
ing it  remain  virtuous,  we  must  look  for  the  cause  of  this  purity 
elsewhere  than  in  the  innocuousness  of  the  doctrine.  With  many 
it  is  their  want  of  logical  consequence  in  their  actions. 


JOHANN  GOTTLIEB  FICHTE.  Ill 

"  I  am,  furthermore,  well  convinced  that  this  life  is  not  the  land 
of  enjoyment,  but  of  labor  and  toil,  and  that  every  joy  is  granted 
to  us  but  to  strengthen  us  for  further  exertion  ;  that  the  manage- 
ment of  our  own  fate  is  by  no  means  required  of  us,  but  only  self- 
culture.  I  trouble  myself,  therefore,  not  at  all  concerning  the 
things  that  are  without ;  I  endeavor  not  to  appear,  but  to  be. 
And  to  this,  perhaps,  I  owe  the  deep  tranquillity  I  enjoy.  My 
external  position,  however,  is  well  enough  suited  to  such  a  frame 
of  mind :  I  am  no  man's  master,  and  no  man's  slave.  As  to 
prospects,  I  have  none  at  all,  for  the  constitution  of  the  Church 
here  does  not  suit  me,  nor,  to  say  the  truth,  that  of  the  people 
either.  As  long  as  I  can  maintain  my  present  independence,  I 
shah1  certainly  do  so." 

Fichte's  enthusiasm  for  Kant  induced  him  to  pay  a  visit  to  the 
eminent  philosopher  at  Konigsberg.  Instead  of  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction, he  presented  Kant  with  a  work  written  in  eight  days, 
called  "A  Critique  of  every  possible  Revelation."  Kant  imme- 
diately recognized  the  merits  of  the  production,  and  became  his 
friend.  He  was  too  poor  to  assist  him  in  a  material  point  of  view 
— and  Fichte  sorely  needed  assistance — but  he  promised  to  obtain 
him  a  publisher  for  his  "  Critique,"  and  otherwise  treated  him 
hospitably  and  kindly. 

In  due  time  the  "  Critique"  made  its  appearance.  There  was 
no  name  on  the  title-page,  and  every  one  said  it  was  the  produc- 
tion of  Kant.  When  it  became  known  that  Fichte  was  the  author, 
he  was  at  once  placed  in  the  highest  ranks  of  philosophy.  The 
celebrity  he  acquired  was  the  means  of  procuring  him  the  chair 
of  philosophy  at  Jena  (1793),  the  leading  university  of  Germany. 

Fichte  now  fondly  believed  that  his  wanderings  and  his  priva- 
tions were  at  an  end,  and  that  henceforth  he  could  devote  him- 
self to  philosophy  without  interruption  from  the  external  world. 
He  was  mistaken.  Even  at  Jena  he  found  himself  soon  oppos- 
ing and  opposed.  His  endeavors  to  instill  a  higher  moral  feeling 
into  the  students,  his  anxiety  for  their  better  culture,  were  mis- 
understood. A  cry  of  Atheism  was  raised  against  the  professor 
— an  unjust  cry,  but  not  without  its  effects.  The  government 
required  some  kind  of  explanation  from  the  philosopher.  He  re- 
fused to  give  it,  tendered  his  resignation,  and  recommenced  his 
wanderings.  He  found  an  asylum  in  Prussia,  where  he  occupied 
the  chair  at  Erlangen,  and  afterward  at  Berlin.  From  his  career 


112  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

in  the  latter  place  the  following  incident  is  related  by  one  of  his 
biographers  (Mr.  Lewes) : 

"It  is  1813.  The  students  are  assembled  in  crowds  to  hear 
their  favorite  professor,  who  is  to  lecture  that  day  upon  duty — 
on  that  duty  whose  ideal  grandeur  his  impassioned  eloquence  has 
revealed  to  them.  Fichte  arrives,  calm  and  modest.  He  lectures 
with  his  usual  dignified  calmness,  rising  into  fiery  bursts  of  elo- 
quence, but  governed  by  the  same  marvelous  rigor  of  logic  as  be- 
fore. He  leads  them  from  the  topic  to  the  present  state  of  af- 
fairs. On  them  he  grows  still  more  animated,  the  rolling  of 
drums  without  frequently  drowning  his  voice,  and  giving  him 
fresh  spirit.  He  points  to  the  bleeding  wounds  of  his  country ; 
he  warms  with  hatred  against  oppressors ;  and  enforces  it  as  the 
duty  of  every  one  to  lend  his  single  arm  to  save  his  country. 

"  '  This  course  of  lectures,'  he  exclaims, '  will  be  suspended  till 
the  end  of  the  campaign.  We  will  resume  them  in  a  free  coun- 
try, or  die  in  the  attempt  to  recover  her  freedom.'  Loud  shouts 
respondent  ring  through  the  hall ;  clapping  of  hands  and  stamp- 
ing of  feet  make  answer  to  the  rolling  drums  without ;  every  Ger- 
man heart  there  present  is  moved  as  at  the  sound  of  a  trumpet. 
Fichte  descends,  passes  through  the  crowd,  and  places  himself  in 
the  ranks  of  a  corps  of  volunteers  then  departing  for  the  army. 
It  is  the  commencement  of  the  memorable  campaign  of  1813." 

Throughout  this  struggle  for  liberty  Fichte  took  an  active  part, 
and  was  noblj  assisted  by  his  wife.  The  hospitals  of  the  city 
were  filled  with  the  sick  and  the  wounded ;  they  became  at  length 
unequal  to  the  demands  made  upon  them,  and  the  authorities, 
through  the  public  journals,  called  on  the  inhabitants  to  come  to 
their  assistance  with  money,  and  with  women  to  take  charge  of 
the  sick.  Fichte' s  wife  was  one  of  the  earliest  to  volunteer  in 
the  good  cause.  She  devoted  her  days  to  the  distribution  of 
clothes,  food,  and  medicine,  and  to  pious  cares  around  the  beds 
of  the  unknown  sick  and  dying ;  and  after  she  returned  late  on  a 
winter's  evening  to  her  home,  often  again  went  out  to  collect  con- 
tributions from  her  friends  and  acquaintances. 

For  five  months  she  devoted  herself  in  this  noble  way  to  the 
service  of  the  helpless  and  wretched.  In  January,  1814,  from 
want  of  sleep  or  other  causes,  alarming  symptoms  began  to  man- 
ifest themselves,  and  soon  after  she  was  attacked  with  a  danger- 
ous nervous  fever.  It  soon  attained  such  a  height  as  to  leave 


JOHANN  GOTTLIEB  FICHTE.  113 

scarce  a  hope  of  recovery ;  and  on  the  very  day  when  she  was  in 
the  greatest  peril,  Fichte,  who  had  been  engaged  in  close  and  anx- 
ious attendance  upon  her  during  her  illness,  was  compelled  to 
leave  her,  to  deliver  the  first  of  a  course  of  philosophical  lectures, 
which  he  had  now  recommenced.  "With  wonderful  self-command, 
he  continued  to  speak  for  two  hours  on  the  most  abstract  sub- 
jects, scarcely  hoping  to  find,  on  his  return,  his  beloved  compan- 
ion still  alive.  This  was,  however,  the  crisis  of  her  illness,  and 
those  who  witnessed  the  transports  of  joy  and  gratitude  with 
which  he  hailed  the  symptoms  of  recovery  were  able  to  estimate 
the  power  of  self-control  he  had  exercised.  It  was  probably  at 
that  moment  that,  innocently  and  unconsciously,  she  communi- 
cated to  him  the  fatal  infection.  On  the  following  day  the  com- 
mencement of  a  serious  indisposition  was  evident,  but  Fichte 
could  not  be  induced  to  relax  any  of  his  customary  exertions. 
The  continued  sleeplessness,  however,  soon  produced  its  usual  ef- 
fect on  his  mental  faculties,  and  in  the  course  of  fourteen  days 
the  attack  terminated  fatally. 

Thus  passed  away  the  amiable  spirit  of  one  of  the  great  think- 
ers of  the  age — a  man  who  shed  on  the  country  of  his  birth  not 
only  intellectual  splendor,  but  rays  of  moral  worth  that  will  burn 
and  glow  on  the  nation's  brow  when  much  that  is  purely  philo- 
sophioal  shall  be  forgotten. 

"  So  robust  an  intellect,"  says  Mr.  Thomas  Carlyle,  in  one  of 
his  tempestuous  bursts  of  enthusiasm,  "  a  soul  so  calm,  so  lofty, 
massive,  and  immovable,  has  not  mingled  in  philosophical  discus- 
sion since  the  time  of  Luther ;  for  the  man  rises  before  us,  amid 
contradiction  and  debate,  like  a  granite  mountain  amid  clouds 
and  winds.  Ridicule  of  the  best  that  could  be  commanded  has 
been  already  tried  against  him,  but  it  could  not  avail.  What  was 
the  wit  of  a  thousand  wits  to  him.  The  cry  of  a  thousand  choughs 
assaulting  that  old  cliff  of  granite.  Seen  from  the  summit,  these, 
as  they  winged  the  midway  air,  showed  scarce  so  gross  as  beetles, 
and  their  cry  was  seldom  even  audible.  Fichte's  opinions  may 
be  true  or  false,  but  his  character  as  a  thinker  can  be  slightly 
valued  only  by  those  who  know  it  ill ;  and  as  a  man  approved  by 
action  and  suffering  in  his  life  and  in  his  death,  he  ranks  with  a 
class  of  men  who  were  common  only  in  better  ages  than  ours." 


DAVID    RITTENHOUSE. 

DAVID  EITTENHOUSE,  whose  scientific  eminence  characterized  a 
period  of  our  history  when  such  eminence  was  uncommon  in  the 
most  advanced  circles  of  the  world,  was  born  at  Germantown, 
Pennsylvania,  on  the  8th  of  April,  1732.  His  parents  were  of 
Dutch  descent,  and  emigrated  to  the  New  World  at  an  early  pe- 
riod of  its  history.  Concerning  David's  education  and  youth  we 
have  no  satisfactory  information.  It  has  been  supposed  that  he 
received  some  tuition  from  a  humble  relative,  a  joiner  by  trade, 
who  lived  in  the  house  of  Kittenhouse,  and  died  there.  This  rela- 
tive appears  to  have  been  a  superior  man,  for  among  his  papers 
were  discovered  some  elementary  treatises  on  mathematics  and  as- 
tronomy, and  numerous  manuscripts  containing  calculations  and 
investigations.  When  he  died  David  was  in  his  twelfth  year,  and 
the  books  and  papers  were  treasures  to  him,  which,  even  then,  he 
appreciated.  The  barns  and  fences  about  the  farm,  and  even  the 
implements  of  industry,  were  covered  with  diagrams  and  figures 
by  the  young  mathematician. 

When  David  was  nineteen  years  of  age  (1751),  he  made  the 


DAVID  RITTENHOUSE.  115 

acquaintance  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Barton,  a  well-informed  clergy- 
man of  the  Episcopal  Church.  This  gentleman  was  astonished 
at  the  intelligence  and  natural  aptitude  of  young  Kittenhouse, 
and,  being  but  a  few  years  older,  a  strong  intimacy  sprung  up 
between  them,  cemented  subsequently  by  the  marriage  of  Mr. 
Barton  to  a  sister  of  David's.  '  Under  the  auspices  of  this  gentle- 
man, Rlttenhouse  obtained  a  satisfactory  knowledge  of  the  Latin 
language,  and  a  rudimental  acquaintance  with  the  Greek.  In  ad- 
dition to  these  valuable  acquirements,  Mr.  Barton  assisted  David 
in  his  mathematical  studies,  and  added  to  his  knowledge  by  judi- 
cious loans  of  books. 

Kittenhouse  had  no  inclination  toward  agriculture,  and  chose 
the  profession  of  clock-maker,  as  more  in  accordance  with  his 
tastes  and  predilections.  His  first  store  was  erected  on  his  fa- 
ther's farm  (1751),  where  he  turned  out  some  unusually  good 
work,  and  made  some  important  improvements  in  the  rude  time- 
pieces of  that  day.  For  seven  years  he  devoted  himself  to  the 
philosophical  pursuit  of  this  business,  but  was  compelled  for  a 
time  to  abandon  it  on  account  of  ill  health.  A  short  period  of 
relaxation  restored  him,  but  the  intense  and  unremitting  attention 
he  paid  to  every  thing  laid  the  foundation  of  a  complaint  which 
compelled  him  later  in  life  to  abandon  the  business  to  which  he 
had  so  enthusiastically  devoted  himself.  He  became  noted  for 
the  excellence  of  his  workmanship,  and  the  philosophical  accuracy 
with  which  he  examined  and  perfected  his  instruments  and  pieces. 
He  made  many  acquaintances,  and  some  friends  ;  among  the  latter 
were  Dr.  Smith,  provost  of  the  College  of  Philadelphia,  and  John 
Lukens,  surveyor  general  of  the  province.  The  unusual  capacity 
of  Rittenhouse's  mind  became  known  to  them,  and  on  the  first 
opportunity  they  availed  themselves  of  his  high  philosophical  and 
astronomical  attainments.  The  boundary-lines  of  Pennsylvania, 
Delaware,  and  Maryland  were  at  that  time  subjects  of  much  dis- 
cussion and  litigation.  They  existed  merely  on  paper,  and  had 
never  been  determined  by  actual  survey.  The  governor  of  the 
province  of  Pennsylvania  was  therefore  directed  to  seek  out  a 
competent  person  to  trace  the  lines  on  the  ground,  and  thus  settle 
all  causes  of  complaint  and  dispute.  For  this  important  and  ex- 
tremely difficult  task  Mr.  Rittenhouse  was  selected  (1763),  and  he 
performed  it  so  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  employers,  that  he 
was  proffered  and  received  more  than  the  stipulated  compensa- 


116  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

tion.  What  was  even  a  greater  compliment  was  the  fact  that  the 
British  commissioner&*-two  eminent  astronomers,  Messrs.  Mason 
and  Dixon — corroborated  the  accuracy  of  Mr.  Rittenhouse's  cal- 
culations. Subsequently  he  was  employed  in  defining  the  limits 
of  nearly  all  the  thirteen  original  states.  He  was  probably  the 
only  American  capable  of  doing  so  in  those  days. 

In  1767,  the  College  of  Philadelphia  conferred  on  Mr.  Kitten- 
house  the  honorary  degree  of  Master  of  Arts  as  a  reward  for  a 
number  of  ingenious  inventions  which  he  introduced  in  the  con- 
struction of  time-pieces,  and  which  were  intended  to  counteract 
the  atmospheric  influence  on  the  metals  composing  their  works. 
His  clocks  were  celebrated  not  only  for  unusual  accuracy,  but  for 
great  elegance.  They  were  supplied  with  apparatus  for  striking 
the  hours  and  the  chimes,  and  sometimes  musical  pieces.  Among 
other  embellishments,  he  adapted  to  one  of  his  time-keepers  a  small 
planetary  machine,  in  which  the  mean  motions  of  the  bodies  of  the 
solar  system  were  made  to  keep  their  proper  rate  with  the  time 
marked  by  the  instrument.  While  perfecting  this  toy,  his  atten- 
tion was  directed  to  a  more  perfect  instrument,  and  he  projected 
un  orrery,  differing  in  many  important  respects  from  the  machines 
commonly  designated  by  that  name,  and  much  more  philosophical 
and  ingenious. 

The  year  17G9  was  famous  among  astronomers  by  the  recur- 
rence of  that  rare  phenomenon,  the  transit  of  the  planet  Venus 
over  the  sun's  disk.  (A  similar  event  will  take  place,  it  is  calcu- 
lated, in  1874.)  In  all  parts  of  the  world,  men  of  eminence  in  the 
sciences  were  on  the  alert,  and  more  than  usual  on  account  of  the 
failure  of  the  observations  of  1761,  when  a  similar  event  took 
place,  and  gave  rise  to  a  vast  number  of  contradictions.  The 
anxiety  was  enhanced  by  the  fact  that  but  a  small  part  of  the 
transit  of  1769  was  to  be  visible  at  any  of  the  great  observatories 
of  Europe.  At  Stockholm,  London,  Paris,  Lisbon,  and  Madrid, 
the  immersion  might  be  seen  just  before  sunset,  and  the  emersion 
at  St.  Petersburg  soon  after  sunrise  on  the  following  morning,  but 
at  no  other  European  capital.  In  the  northern  frozen  zone,  be- 
yond the  latitude  of  sixty-seven  and  a  half  degrees,  the  sun  was 
not  to  set  on  the  day  of  the  transit ;  the  whole  of  the  phenomenon 
would  therefore  be  visible  ;  and  at  Wardhuys,  in  Lapland,  where 
the  observation  would  be  included  between  the  hours  of  half  past 
nine  in  the  afternoon  and  three  in  the  morning,  the  circumstances 


DAVID  KITTENIIOUSE.  117 

would  be  the  most  favorable  possible.  In  less  high  northern  lati- 
tudes, near  the  same  meridian,,  the  beginning  might  occur  before 
sunset,  and  the  end  take  place  after  sunrise.  The  British  astron- 
omers were  perfectly  aware  of  these  facts,  and  dispatched  their 
expeditions  to  all  quarters  of  the  globe.  But  they  overlooked 
one  very  important  circumstance,  namely,  that  a  much  better  po- 
sition for  making  observations  could  be  found  in  Pennsylvania. 
Rittenhouse,  alive  ot  this  fact,  communicated  to  the  Philosophi- 
cal Society  of  Philadelphia  a  calculation  of  the  anticipated  times 
and  phenomena  of  the  transit,  as  likely  to  be  visible  at  Norriton, 
and  set  about  preparing  instruments  for  his  own  observations. 
The  society  was  fully  sensible  of  the  importance  of  the  occasion, 
and  appointed  a  large  and  well-informed  committee  to  attend  to 
it,  of  which  Rittenhouse  was  of  course  one.  Three  places  of  ob- 
servation were  selected — the  State  House  Square  of  Philadelphia ; 
Cape  Henlopen,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Delaware  ;  and  Norriton,  the 
residence  of  Rittenhouse.  At  the  latter  station,  Provost  Smith 
and  Mr.  Lukens  were  detailed  to  assist  Mr.  Rittenhouse.  Liberal 
aid  was  extended  to  the  operators,  and  the  best  instruments  that 
could  be  obtained  supplied.  Rittenhouse,  however,  was  left  to 
prepare  and  furnish  his  own  observatory — probably  out  of  defer- 
ence to  his  own  mechanical  and  philosophical  skill.  He  erected 
a  suitable  building,  and  furnished  it  with  an  apparatus  from  his 
own  hands,  with  the  exceptions  of  an  instrument  for  determining 
the  latitude,  which  was  supplied  by  an  associate,  and  a  micrometer 
and  telescope  sent  out  by  Mr.  Penn.  All  the  preliminary  arrange- 
ments were  intrusted  to  Rittenhouse ;  and  so  assiduously  did  he 
apply  himself  to  the  task,  that,  when  the  morning  arrived,  his 
anxiety  and  exhaustion  were  so  great  that  he  could  scarcely  ap- 
ply himself  to  the  close  and  serious  matter  of  observation.  The 
morning  of  the  expected  day,  however,  says  Dr.  Renwick,  in  his 
excellent  sketch,  broke  without  a  cloud,  and  not  even  a  floating 
wreath  of  vapor  appeared  to  interfere  with  the  observations. 
Exhilarated  by  the  favorable  state  of  the  atmosphere,  and  stimu- 
lated by  the  near  approach  of  the  time  when  he  was  to  reap  the 
fruit  of  his  long  and  patient  labors,  excitement  supplied  the  place 
of  strength.  But  when  the  contact  had  been  observed,  and  the 
planet  had  entered  fairly  upon  the  disk  of  the  sun,  his  bodily 
strength  was  exhausted,  and  he  sunk  fainting  to  the  ground,  un- 
able to  bear  the  intense  feelings  of  delight  which  attended  the 


118  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

accomplishment  of  his  wishes.  He,  however,  speedily  recovered, 
and  proceeded  to  perform  the  measures  of  the  distances  between 
the  centres  of  the  two  bodies  at  proper  intervals  during  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  transit. 

The  calculations  which  were  the  necessary  results  of  these  ob- 
servations were  made  by  Rittenhouse,  and  published  by  the  Phil- 
osophical Society  of  Philadelphia.  When  they  reached  Europe, 
they  corroborated  the  calculations  of  the  most  famous  astrono- 
mers, and  upset  the  theory  of  the  old  school  that  the  sun  was  but 
eighty  millions  of  miles  from  the  earth,  placing  the  distance  at 
ninety-six  millions.  The  learned  men  of  the  Old  World  did  not 
hesitate  to  award  to  Rittenhouse  the  highest  meed  of  praise,  and 
one  accomplished  judge  declared  that  no  learned  society  in  Eu- 
rope "  could  at  the  moment  boast  of  a  member  possessing  the  va- 
rious merits  of  Rittenhouse,  who  united,  in  his  own  person,  tact 
as  an  observer,  theoretic  skill  as  a  calculator,  and  practical  talent 
as  a  constructor  of  instruments." 

During  the  same  year  Rittenhouse  was  engaged  in  observing 
the  transit  of  Mercury,  and  his  calculations  were  again  so  perfect 
that  the  longitude  of  places  on  the  American  continent  were  for 
fifty  years  determined  by  them.  » 

These  elevated  occupations  did  not  entirely  divert  his  attention 
from  his  workshop ;  he  still  dwelt  on  the  subject  of  a  perfect  or- 
rery with  devotion,  and  occupied  all  his  leisure  moments  in  fin- 
ishing one  on  a  new  plan.  It  was  at  length  completed,  and  be- 
came the  property  of  the  institution  at  Princeton,  in  whose  cal  >i- 
net  it  may  still  be  found.  Rittenhouse  refers  to  it  in  the  follow- 
ing words :  "  I  did  not  design  a  machine  which  should  give  to 
the  ignorant  in  astronomy  a  first  view  of  the  solar  system,  but 
would  rather  astonish  the  skillful  and  curious  examiner  by  a  most 
accurate  correspondence  between  the  situations  and  motions  of 
our  little  representatives  of  the  heavenly  bodies  and  the  situa- 
tions and  motions  of  those  bodies  themselves.  I  would  have  my 
orrery  really  useful,  by  making  it  capable  of  informing  us  truly  of 
the  astronomic  phenomena  for  any  particular  point  of  time,  which 
I  do  not  find  that  any  orrery  yet  made  can  do."  The  mechanism 
by  which  this  is  accomplished  is  described  by  competent  judges 
as  truly  wonderful.  A  duplicate  of  this  machine  was  subsequent- 
ly executed  for  the  College  of.  Philadelphia. 

In  1770,  Rittenhouse  took  up  his  residence  in  the  city  of  Phil- 


DAVID  RITTENHOUSE.  119 

adelphia,  having  been  invited  to  make  that  capital  his  home.  In 
the  following  year  he  was  elected  one  of  the  secretaries  of  the 
American  Philosophical  Society.  In  1775,  a  scheme  was  set  on 
foot  to  establish  a  public  observatory  in  Philadelphia,  under  the 
direction  of  Rittenhouse,  but,  owing  to  the  political  agitations  of 
the  time,  it  was  abandoned.  The  contest  for  freedom  was.  now 
at  hand,  and  Rittenhouse  enrolled  himself  on  the  popular  side,  al- 
though he  did  not  immediately  Jake  any  part  in  the  public  meet- 
ings and  deliberations.  The  modest  integrity  and  wisdom  of  his 
life,  however,  pointed  him  out  as  a  fitting  object  of  public  trust, 
and  in  1775,  when  Franklin  was  called  to  the  Provincial  Assem- 
bly of  Pennsylvania,  Rittenhouse  was  elected  to  fill  his  seat  in  the 
General  Congress.  When  the  old  government  was  dissolved,  he 
was  chosen  a  member  of  the  Convention  called  for  the  purpose  of 
framing  a  Constitution,  and  also  of  the  Committee  of  Public  Safe- 
ty. In  1776  he  was  unanimously  elected  to  the  responsible  and 
laborious  office  of  State  Treasurer,  and  was  annually  re-elected, 
until  he  declined  any  longer  to  hold  office.  When  the  city  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  British,  the  responsibilities  and  dangers  of 
this  appointment  were  of  the  most  oppressive  kind,  but  by  activ- 
ity and  firmness  Rittenhouse  discharged  them  to  the  satisfaction 
of  every  one.  One  cause  of  very  great  anxiety  to  him  was  the 
rumor  that  his  two  orreries  had  been  destroyed  by  the  enemy. 
This  proved  to  be  unfounded.  The  British  commanders  respect- 
ed the  work  of  art,  and  took  effectual  means  to  preserve  its  safety. 

After  the  close  of  hostilities  against  Great  Britain,. Mr.  Ritten- 
house was  engaged  in  settling  the  boundaries  of  Pennsylvania  and 
Virginia  by  astronomical  observations  of  the  longitudinal  lines ; 
also  in  establishing  a  division  line  between  the  States  of  New  York 
and  Pennsylvania  ;  and  the  limits  of  a  territory,  the  right  of  soil 
of  which  the  State  of  Massachusetts  had  accepted  in  lieu  of  a  con- 
tested claim  both  to  the  land  and  the  jurisdiction  of  a  large  part 
of  the  State  of  New  York.  These  arduous  operations  engaged 
Mr.  Rittenhouse  until  1787,  and,  with  the  duties  of  the  State 
Treasury  and  Loan  Office,  of  which  he  was  a  trustee,  kept  him 
fully  employed.  During  a  part  of  the  time  the  emoluments  of 
his  offices  were  so  small  that  he  was  unable  to  afford  the  neces- 
sary assistance  of  a  clerk,  and  had  to  call  in  the  aid  of  his  wife. 
Mr.  Rittenhouse  surrendered  his  trusts  in  1790- 

Under  the  federal  government  he  was  appointed  a  commis- 


120  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

sioner  to  receive  subscriptions  to  the  Bank  of  the  United  States ; 
and  when  the  law  establishing  a  national  mint  was  passed,  he  was 
named  by  Washington  as  its  first  director.  The  machinery  of 
that  establishment  was  put  up  under  his  direction,  and  the  work- 
men instructed  beneath  his  eye.  The  first  coinage  of  the  United 
States  bore  the  impress  of  his  practical  skill,  and  sufficed  for  many 
years.  Mr.  Rittenhouse  applied  himself  so  laboriously  to  the  du- 
ties of  his  office  that  his  health  bycame  seriously  impaired,  and  he 
was  compelled,  in  June,  1795,  to  retire.  His  resignation  was  ac- 
cepted by  the  government  with  great  unwillingness. 

He  did  not  afterward  take  any  active  part  in  politics,  or  hold 
office  except  as  president  of  a  Democratic  society.  So  seriously 
had  his  constitution  been  impaired  by  his  labors,  that  he  survived 
his  resignatron  little  more  than  one  year,  his  death  occurring  on 
the  26th  of  June,  1796,  in  the  sixty-fifth  year  of  his  age.  Mr. 
Rittenhouse  was  a  distinguished  member  of  all  the  learned  soci- 
eties of  his  own  country,  and  was  elected  a  foreign  member  of  the 
Royal  Society  of  London — an  honor  greatly  esteemed  and  never 
hastily  conferred. 


CAESTEN   NIEBUHR. 

CARSTEN  NIEBUHR,  the  Oriental  traveler,  was  a  native  of  a 
Friesland  province  called  Hadeln,  where  he  was  born  a  free  peas- 
ant, among  a  free  people,  on  the  17th  of  March,  1733.  In  those 
days  all  the  peasants  owned  their  own  farms,  and  were,  conse- 
quently, in  good  circumstances,  without  belonging  to  the  wealthy. 
The  little  Carsten  lost  his  mother  before  he  was  six  weeks  old, 
and  was  brought  up  by  a  stepmother  in  the  house  of  his  father, 
where  his  mode  of  living  and  occupations,  as  well  as  his  educa- 
tion, were  distinguished  by  nothing  from  those  of  other  peasant- 
boys.  Probably  it  was  his  own  longing  for  information  that  oc- 
casioned his  father  to  send  him  to  the  Latin  school  in  Otterndorf, 
and,  somewhat  later,  to  that  of  Altenbruch  ;  merely,  however, 
that  he  might  acquire  a  little  more  knowledge  than  an  ordinary 
farmer.  But  the  dismissal  of  the  schoolmaster  at  Altenbruch, 
and  the  prejudices  of  his  guardian  (for  his  father  had  died  mean- 
time), put  an  early  end  to  his  studies,  before  he  was  far  enough 
advanced  to  experience  any  profit  from  this  first  beginning. 

The  paternal  property  was  divided  among  the  children,  produc- 
ing but  a  small  sum  to  each.  Carsten  had  now  to  look  out  for 
himself  in  the  cold  world.  Having  a  natural  taste  for  music,  he 
studied  various  instruments,  hoping  that  he  might  eventually  suc- 
ceed in  obtaining  a  situation  as  organist.  His  guardians,  how- 
ever, were  averse  to  this  hazardous  experiment,  and  his  uncle 
took  him  into  his  house,  where  he  followed  for  four  years  the  bus- 
iness of  farming.  It  was  distasteful  to  him,  and  he  longed  for  a 
more  intellectual  life.  The  trifling  circumstances  which  often  de- 
termine the  vital  issues  of  life  were  very  curious  in  the  case  of 
Carsten  Niebuhr.  A  lawsuit  in  regard  to  the  superficial  con- 
tents of  a  farm  could  only  be  decided  by  a  geometrical  survey.  A 
surveyor  was  consequently  needed,  but  the  country  of  Hadeln 
could  not  produce  one.  Niebuhr  was  a  patriotic  man,  and  felt  a 
kind  of  humiliation  at  this  circumstance.  It  became  a  duty  to 
supply  this  want.  He  determined  to  study  practical  geometry, 
and  suit  himself  for  the  office.  With  this  object,  he  proceeded  to 

F 


122  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

Bremen  to  take  lessons  from  a  professor  there.  This  plan,  howev- 
er, did  not  succeed.  The  professor  on  whom  he  had  depended  was 
dead.  He  would  not  have  declined  the  instruction  of  an  inferior 
practical  surveyor ;  but  this  man  wished  to  take  him  as  a  board- 
er in  his  house ;  and  the  young  countryman,  diffident,  bashful, 
:md  of  the  severest  principles,  found  the  obliging  manners  of  the 
two  sisters  of  his  intended  teacher  so  questionable  that  he  left 
Bremen  on  the  spot.  It  was  this  circumstance  which  made  him 
a  traveler.  He  now  set  his  face  toward  Hamburg,  where  he  ar- 
rived in  the  summer  of  the  year  1755.  In  this  city  it  was  his  in- 
tention to  take  lessons  of  the  celebrated  Succow,  and,  indeed,  to 
begin  his  school  studies  anew.  Eight  months  were  entirely  de- 
voted to  preparatory  studies  before  he  could  become  a  student  in 
the  gymnasium;  and  twelve  months  more  were  wholly  insuffi- 
cient, notwithstanding  all  his  exertions,  and  his  perfect  health  of 
body  and  mind,  to  acquire  what  every  youth  more  favored  by  cir- 
cumstances carries  with  him  to  the  University  without  difficulty. 
Succow  being  absent,  he  commenced  his  mathematical  studies  un- 
der Biisch,  whose  friendship  and  esteem  he  secured  for  the  re- 
mainder of  his  life.  In  1757  he  went  to  Gottingen,  still  in  pur- 
suit of  his  mathematical  studies,  and  with  the  hope,  too,  of  finding 
some  kind  of  employment  which  would  enable  him  to  eke  out  his 
scanty  means.  For  more  than  a  year  he  continued  his  studies 
with  the  greatest  possible  assiduity  and  devotion,  but  without  se- 
curing any  appointment  to  contribute  to  his  means. 

In  1756,  Michaelis's  celebrated  philological  expedition  to  Ara- 
bia was  proposed  to  the  government  of  Denmark,  and  accepted  by 
the  minister,  Baron  Bernstorf,  who  lent  to  it  all  his  influence  and 
aid.  Michaelis  was  commissioned  to  name  a  philologian,  a  math- 
ematician, and  a  natural  philosopher.  To  obtain  the  mathema- 
tician he  addressed  himself  to  Kastner,  o£  the  Academy  of  Sci- 
ences at  Gottingen.  Carsten  was  a  pupil  of  this  gentleman,  and, 
when  the  moment  arrived,  he  proposed  him  as  the  mathematician 
of  the  expedition.  Niebuhr  was,  of  course,  delighted,  but  he  had 
misgivings  of  his  own  ability.  Kastner,  however,  set  his  mind  at 
rest  about  it  by  promising  him  a  long  term  for  preparation,  espe- 
cially for  the  study  of  astronomy  under  Mayer. 

For  eighteen  months — the  term  allowed  by  the  king  for  the 
necessary  preparations  of  the  expedition — Niebuhr  devoted  him- 
self to  the  closest  study.  He  continued  the  study  of  pure  mathe- 


CARSTEN  NIEBUHR.  123 

matics,  perfected  himself  in  drawing,  and  endeavored  to  acquire 
as  much  historical  knowledge  as  he  could  with  his  imperfect  pre- 
liminary studies,  without  leaving  his  main  purpose  too  much  out 
of  view.  He  also  exercised  himself  in  practical  mechanics,  that 
he  might  learn  to  handle  his  instruments ;  and  also  in  all  those 
points  of  mechanical  s"kill,  the  acquirement  and  practice  of  which 
would  be  a  waste  of  time  for  every  one  in  Europe  who  does  not 
make  them  his  business.  But  he  was  principally  occupied  with 
two  courses  of  private  lessons,  viz.,  in  the  Arabic  language  with 
Michaelis,  and  in  astronomy  with  Mayer.  Of  these  he  preserved 
a  very  different  remembrance.  The  slow,  methodical  method  of 
Michaelis  discouraged  him,  and  he  acquired  the  conviction  that 
the  professor  by  no  means  possessed  any  special  treasure  of  Ara- 
bic knowledge  and  philology.  He  therefore  gave  up  this  study, 
and  Michaelis  never  forgave  him.  With  Mayer  he  got  on  excel- 
lently. The  teacher's  zeal  was  only  exceeded  by  the  pupil's  en- 
thusiasm. A  mutual  friendship  sprang  up  between  them,  which 
lasted,  under  the  most  happy  and  gratifying  circumstances,  to  the 
day  of  Mayer's  death.  It  was  JSiebuhr's  delight  in  later  days  to 
acknowledge  that  he  owed  every  thing  to  this  eminent  astronomer 
and  excellent  man. 

In  the  autumn  of  1760,  every  thing  being  in  readiness,  Niebuhr 
left  Gottingen.  His  companions  were  Von  Haven  and  Forskaal 
— the  latter  a  man  of  undoubted  ability,  the  former  a  supercil- 
ious and  querulous  person  ;  Dr.  Cramer,  a  physician  of  mean  ca- 
pacity, and  Bauernfeind,  a  painter,  "  not  unskilled  in  drawing." 
The  voyage  commenced  under  the  most  unfavorable  auspices,  the 
vessel  being  three  times  driven  back  into  port  before  she  was  able 
to  make  her  way  to  the  Mediterranean.  A  stay  of  a  few  weeks 
at  Marseilles,  and  a  shorter  one  at  Malta,  afforded  a  very  pleas- 
ing recreation  to  the  travelers.  Their  scientific  enterprise  being 
known,  they  were  every  where  treated  with  great  consideration 
and  courtesy.  From  Malta  the  travelers  proceeded  to  the  Dar- 
danelles. In  the  Archipelago  Niebuhr  was  seized  with  the  dysen- 
tery, which  brought  him  near  the  grave,  ^.t  Constantinople  his 
health  returned,  though  very  slowly ;  so  that  at  the  end  of  two 
months  from  the  commencement  of  the  attack,  he  was  only  so  far 
recovered  as  to  be  able,  with  evident  hazard  of  relapse,  to  embark 
for  Alexandria.  On  this  voyage  they  encountered  a  fresh  danger. 
The  plague  broke  out  among  the  crowded  mass  of  Oriental  pas- 
sengers. The  Europeans,  however,  escaped. 


124  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

From  September,  17G1,  until  October,  17G2,  the  travelers  re- 
mained in  Egypt,  without  going  higher  up  than  Cairo.  During 
their  sojourn  Niebuhr  determined  the  longitude  of  Alexandria, 
Cairo,  Rosetta,  and  Damietta,  by  numerous  lunar  observation?, 
and  with  an  exactness  which  was  subsequently  justified  by  the  as- 
tronomers in  Bonaparte's  expedition.  He  also  executed  a  chart 
of  the  two  arms  of  the  Nile,  and  a  plan  of  Cairo.  He  likewise 
took  the  altitude  of  the  pyramids,  and  copied  many  hieroglyphic 
inscriptions  on  obelisks  and  sarcophagi. 

In  October  the  travelers  embarked  at  Suez  on  board  of  a  Turk- 
ish ship ;  they  landed  at  Djidda,  and  reached  Loheia,  the  first 
point  of  their  proper  destination — the  land  of  Yemen — in  the 
last  days  of  the  year  1762.  After  some  stay  in  this  friendly  city, 
the  company,  and  more  especially  Forskaal  and  Niebuhr,  traveled 
over  the  western  part  of  Yemen  in  various  directions ;  the  former 
for  botanical  purposes,  and  the  latter  in  order  to  determine  the 
geographical  positions  of  the  various  places.  They  afterward 
proceeded  to  Mocha,  where  Von  Haven  died  toward  the  end  of 
May,  1763.  About  the  same  time,  Niebuhr  was  again  attacked 
by  dysentery,  but  was  saved  by  prudent  foresight  and  extreme 
temperance.  His  health  was  not  fully  restored  when  the  party 
moved  on  to  Sana,  the  capital  of  Yemen.  On  the  way  Forskaal 
was  seized  with  a  bilious  disorder,  of  which  he  died  at  Yerim, 
July  llth,  1763.  With  but  two  remaining  companions  Niebuhr 
pursued  the  journey.  His  own  health  was  feeble,  and  for  the 
only  time  in  his  life  he  gave  way  to.  despondency.  His  anxiety 
was  not  so  much  for  the  safety  of  his  own  life  as  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  papers  of  the  expedition.  The  surviving  members  of 
the  expedition  were  thoroughly  disheartened,  and,  in  consequence, 
declined  a  friendly  invitation  to  remain  a  full  year  in  Sana  and 
Upper  Yemen.  They  hastily  descended  once  more  to  the  coast 
in  the  hope  that  the  ships  might  not  yet  have  taken  their  depart- 
ure, and  made  so  much  haste  that  they  had  more  than  a  month 
to  remain  at  Mocha  before  the  ship  in  which  they  were  to  return 
to  Malta  was  ready.  *It  was  in  the  height  of  summer,  and  the 
surviving  travelers,  with  their  servant,  were  all  attacked  by  the 
fever  of  the  climate.  Bauernfeind  and  the  servant  died  at  sea. 
Cramer  reached  Bombay,  remained  ill  several  months,  and  died. 
Of  the  entire  expedition,  Niebuhr  was  now  the  sole  survivor. 

Niebuhr  remained  in  Bombay  until  his  health  was  completely 


CAKSTEN  N1EBUHK.  125 

re-established.  He  used  his  time  advantageously  in  studying  the 
English  language.  He  collected  also  all  the  information  which 
was  to  be  obtained  respecting  the  Parsees  and  Hindoos ;  visited 
the  pagodas  hewn  in  the  rocks  of  Elephanta,  and  made  drawings 
of  their  sculptures.  He  occupied  himself  further  in  reducing  all 
his  journals  into  proper  order,  and  forwarded  a  copy  to  Denmark. 
After  a  sojourn  of  fourteen  months  he  left  Bombay ;  visited 
Muscat ;  proceeded  to  Shiraz  and  Persepolis,  and  spent  nearly 
four  weeks  in  drawing  and  measuring  the  ruins  in  the  latter  place, 
of  which  he  always  preserved  the  most  vivid  recollection.  From 
Shiraz  he  crossed  the  Persian  Gulf  to  Bassora,  and  thence  through 
Bagdad  and  Mosul  to  Haleb.  An  opportunity  of  going  to  Jaffa 
tempted  him  to  visit  Palestine.  After  that  he  explored  Asia 
Minor,  and  reached  Constantinople  on  the  20th  of  February, 
1767.  After  having  spent  five  months  in  that  city,  he  passed 
over  Turkey  in  Europe  to  Poland,  and  in  November  reached  Co- 
penhagen. He  was  received  with  great  distinction  by  the  court, 
the  ministers,  and  all  the  learned  men.  When  the  expenses  of  the 
expedition  were  calculated,  they  were  found  not  to  exceed  $17,000 
— a  remarkably  small  sum,  considering  the  magnitude  of  the  orig- 
inal arrangements,  and  the  unusual  outlays  to  which  they  were 
necessarily  exposed.  It  was  a  point  of  conscience  with  Niebuhr 
to  settle  up  his  accounts  with  the  greatest  expedition,  having  been 
appointed  treasurer  from  the  commencement.  His  next  solicitude 
was  to  arrange  his  voluminous  notes,  and  arrange  for  the  speedy 
publication  of  his  travels.  The  materials  contained  in  his  jour- 
nals were  in  the  highest  degree  rich  and  profuse,  and  that  he 
wrought  them  up  with  a  degree  of  perfection,  to  which  the  entire 
artlessness  and  simplicity  of  his  manner  contributed  not  a  little, 
every  one  will  now  acknowledge.  His  first  design  was  to  pub- 
lish two  separate  works  before  his  Travels ;  first,  answers  to  the 
questions  which  had  been  directed  to  the  travelers,  out  of  his  own 
and  Forskaal's  papers ;  and,  secondly,  the  whole  of  his  astro- 
nomical observations.  The  difficulties  and  hostilities  he  had  to 
encounter  from  a  variety  of  causes  and  persons  interfered  with 
this  arrangement.  Some  years  elapsed  before  even  the  Travels 
made  their  .appearance,  and  then  they  were  published  slowly,  and 
mainly  at  his  own  expense.  The  engravings,  however,  were  made 
;it  the  expense  of  the  Danish  government,  the  plates  being  pre- 
sented to  him.  The  Description  of  Arabia  appeared  in  1772. 


126  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

0 
In  1773  Mr.  Niebuhr  was  married  to  the  daughter  ot'Blumen- 

berg,  the  physician.  Two  children  were  the  fruits  of  this  union, 
a  daughter,  and  B.  G.  Niebuhr,  the  eminent  historian  of  Rome, 
and  author  of  the  Memoir  from  which  this  sketch  is  compiled. 
After  his  marriage  Mr.  Niebuhr  took  up  his  residence  at  Mel- 
ford,  of  which  district  he  was  appointed  secretary  by  the  govern- 
ment (1778).  He  had  a  large  house  and  garden,  and  much  of 
his  time  was  'occupied  in  attending  to  them  and  educating  his 
children ;  the  rest  to  preparing  his  works  for  the  press". 

The  first  volume  of  his  Travels  appeared  in  1774;  the  second 
in  1778.  Both  volumes  were  attended  with  loss.  The  political 
agitations  of  the  times  were  unfavorable  to  works  which,  although 
eminently  instructive,  did  not  appeal  to  a  large  class  of  readers, 
and  required  much  calm  and  serious  study.  The  third  volume 
was  not  published.  Niebuhr  felt  the  indifference  of  his  country- 
men keenly,  and  was,  moreover,  seriously  inconvenienced  by  it  in 
a  pecuniary  point  of  view.  It  was  not  until  after  his  death  that 
the  great  merits  of  this  excellent  traveler  were  fully  recognized. 
In  1795  a  sad  misfortune  befell  him.  The  engraved  plates,  both 
of  bis  published  works  and  also  for  the  still  unpublished  part, 
were  destroyed  in  the  great  conflagration  at  Copenhagen.  This 
new  calamity  removed  the  opportunity  and  even  the  inclination 
to  supply  the  deficient  volume.  For  the  remainder  of  his  lifo 
Mr.  Niebuhr  devoted  himself  to  purely  domestic  pursuits. 

His  son  relates  some  pleasing  anecdotes  of  the  green  old  age  of 
this  worthy  man.  "I  have  a  very  lively  recollection,"  he  says, 
"  of  many  stories  out  of  my  boyish  years  about  the  system  of  the 
universe,  and  about  the  East ;  when  he  used  to  take  me  upon  his 
knee  at  evening  before  going  to  bed,  and  feed  me  with  such  food, 
instead  of  children's  fables.  The  history  of  Mohammed,  of  the 
first  califs,  and  especially  of  Omar  and  Ali,  for  whom  he  felt 
the  profoundest  veneration ;  that  of  the  conquests  and  extension 
of  Islamism,  of  the  virtues  of  the  early  heroes  of  the  new  faith, 
the  history  of  the  Turks — all  these  impressed  themselves  early 
and  in  the  most  pleasing  colors  on  my  mind.  The  historical 
works  which  treat  of  these  subjects  were  also  almost  the  first 
books  which  came  into  my  hands.  I  recollect  also^  about  my 
tenth  year,  how  at  Christmas,  in  order  to  give  the  festival  still 
more  importance  in  my  eyes,  he  brought  out  and  read  with  me^ 
the  manuscripts  which  contained  the  accounts  collected  by  him 


CARSTEN  XIEBUHR.  127 

respecting  Africa.  These  and  his  other  manuscripts  were  kept 
in  an  ornamental  coffer,  which  was  venerated  by  the  children  and 
inmates  of  the  house  like  a  second  ark." 

In  November,  1792,  Mr.  Niebuhr  was  brought  near  to  the  grave 
by  pleurisy,  and  recovered  only  by  slow  degrees.  In  consequence 
of  his  full  habit  of  body,  his  fixed  and  almost  sedentary  life  for  so 
many  years  had  prepared  the  w^y  for  severe  sickness  and  a  long 
interruption  of  his  health.  In  the  following  year  he  spat  blood, 
lie  was  not  positively  ill,  but  without  energy,  low-spirited,  out  of 
humor,  breathed  with  difficulty,  and  walked  only  with  great  effort. 
Another  complaint  also  increased  his  anxiety.  Several  years  be- 
fore, there  had  appeared  under  his  right  eye  a  small  excrescence 
like  a  wart,  which  continued  to  spread  slowly  but  constantly,  and 
was  only  made  worse  by  all  the  means  employed  to  remove  it. 
The  physicians  regarded  it  with  the  more  solicitude  because  they 
durst  not  venture  upon  its  extirpation.  After  many  years  of 
anxiety  and  trouble,  a  remedy  was  at  length  found  in  1796  by 
which  it  was  loosened  and  removed,  roots  and  all.  After  this, 
on  the  completion  of  his  sixty-sixth  year,  his  health,  and  with  it 
his  frame  of  mind,  took  a  more  happy  turn.  Circumstances  in- 
duced him  to  purchase  some  marsh  lands  about  an  hour's  distance 
from  his  house,  and  to  undertake  the  reclamation  of  them  for  til- 
lage. It  was  refreshing  to  him  thus  to  return  to  the  employment 
of  his  youth  ;  he  sketched  plans  for  making  these  lands  productive, 
prosecuted  them  with  youthful  ardor,  and  promised  himself  the 
best  success — planted  trees,  dug  drains  and  ditches,  and  so  pur- 
chased by  degrees  a  great  estate.  The  result  disappointed  his 
hopes,  and  a  large  sum  was  lost.  Still,  in  this  case,  it  is.  not  to 
be  regretted ;  for,  says  Mr.  Niebuhr's  son,  "  not  only  does  much 
remain  in  a  state  of  improvement  and  tillage,  but  the  old  age  of 
my  father  was,  without  doubt,  by  this  means  prolonged  and  ren- 
dered more  serene.  He  took  much  and  active  exercise,  visited 
Ihe  newly-planned  farm  now  on  foot  and  now  on  horseback,  and 
inspected  indefatigably  every  spot  where  any  thing  was  to  be  done 
or  directions  to  be  given.  As  the  fields  were  separated  by  broad 
ditches,  in  order  to  shorten  the  distances  he  often  made  use  of  a 
leaping-staff,  to  the  use  of  which  he  -had  been  accustomed  from 
childhood.  He  had  now  so  renewed  his  strength  that,  with  the 
aid  of  such  a  staff,  Xluvstaaken,  he  was  able,  in  his  seventieth  year, 
to  spring  over  ditches  ten  feet  wide." 


128  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

Mr.  Niebuhr  was  a  man  of  a  full-blooded,  stout,  and  phlegmat- 
ic temperament.  For  a  number  of  years  he  had  accustomed  him- 
self to  periodical  bloodlettings,  imagining  that  his  health  required 
them.  Unhappily,  he  took  it  into  his  head  that  he  ought  to  omit 
this  on  account  of  his  great  age,  and  could  not  be  induced,  by  any 
warnings  or  representations,  to  give  up  this  idea,  until  dizziness, 
apoplectic  stupor,  and  spitting  of  blood  had  brought  him  into  the 
most  imminent  danger.  In  October,  1813,  he  was  seized  with  a 
violent  hemorrhage  through  the  nose.  With  no  weariness  of  life, 
but  yet  satiated  with  it,  he  often  expressed  himself  anxious  to  de- 
part and  join  his  wife,  if  God  should  call'  him.  In  March,  1814, 
his  symptoms  were  aggravated  by  a  fall,  in  which  his  right  leg 
received  a  permanent  injury.  He  was  never  able  afterward  to 
place  his  foot  upon  the  ground ;  he  could  move  only  with  pain  by 
the  help  of  others  ;  he  was  taken  out  of  bed  only  in  the  afternoon, 
and  placed  in  a  chair  with  rollers.  A  numerous  and  still  unbroken 
family  circle  were  gathered  around  him ;  and  he  himself,  except, 
}>erhaps,  when  some  day  of  particular  illness  occurred,  was  full 
of  heartfelt  joy  over  the  change  of  times,  and  ever  ready  to  con- 
verse. "We  succeeded,"  says  his  son,  "in  drawing  from  him 
continued  recitals  of  his  travels,  which  he  at  this  time  gave  us 
with  peculiar  fullness  and  sprightliness.  Thus  he  once  spoke  for 
a  long  time  and  much  in  detail  of  Persepolis,  and  described  the 
walls  on  which  the  inscriptions  and  bas-reliefs  of  which  he  spoke 
were  found,  just  as  one  would  describe  a  building  which  he  had 
recently  visited.  We  could  not  conceal  our  astonishment.  He 
said  to  us  that  as  he  lay  thus  blind  upon  his  bed,  the  images  of 
all  that  he  had  seen  in  the  East  were  ever  present  to  his  soul, 
and  it  was  therefore  no  wonder  that  he  should  speak  of  them  as 
of  yesterday.  In  like  manner,  there  was  vividly  reflected  to  him 
in  the  hours  of  stillness  the  nocturnal  view  of  the  deep  Asiatic 
heavens,  with  their  brilliant  host  of  stars,  which  he  had  so  often 
contemplated,  or  else  their  blue  and  lofty  vault  by  day ;  and  this 
was  his  greatest  enjoyment." 

In  this  condition  Mr.  Niebuhr  lingered  until  April,  1815.  To- 
ward evening  of  the  26th  he  desired  some  one  to  read  to  him,  and 
asked  several  questions  with  entire  consciousness.  He  fell  again 
into  a  slumber,  and  died  without  a  struggle,  in  the  eighty-third 
year  of  his  age. 

His  funeral  was  attended  by  a  multitude  of  people  from  every 


CABSTEN  NIEBUHR.  129 

part  of  the  district.     In  the  memory  of  the  oldest  inhabitant,  no 
one  had  died  there  so  universally  lamented.  »   N 

Mr.  Niebuhr  was  a  man  of  extremely  frugal  habits  ;  until  late 
in  life  he  drank  nothing  but  water  and  milk.  He  had  no  favorite 
dishes  except  the  peasant  food  of  his  native  place.  It  was  his 
greatest  pride  that  he  was  a  child  of  free  Friesland.  His  char- 
acter was  without  a  spot ;  his  morals  in  the  highest  degree  severe 
and  pure.  As  a  traveler,  he  was  remarkable  for  keen  observation ; 
every  thing  he  saw  remained  firmly  fixed  in  his  mind,  and  he  re- 
membered it  with  astonishing  tenacity.  "  To  this  day,"  says  his 
son,  "  no  traveler  returns  from  the  East  without  admiration  and 
gratitude  for  this  teacher  and  guide,  the  most  distinguished  of 
Oriental  travelers.  No»e  of  those  who  have  hitherto  followed  him 
can  be  compared  with  him  ;*  and  we  may  well  inquire  whether  he 
will  ever  find  a  successor  who  will  complete  the  description  of 
Arabia,  and  be  named  along  with  him." 

*  This,  it  must  be  remembered,  was  written  in  1816. 
F* 


HENKY    CLAY. 

THE  readers  of  this  brief  memoir  of  one  of  America's  greatest 
politicians  need  not  expect  to  find  an  important  political  biography. 
The  character,  principles,  and  policy  of  the  acts  of  Henry  Clay 
belong  to  the  history  of  the  country,  which  can  not  fail  to  do  him 
justice.  In  this  and  similar  instances,  all  we  shall  attempt  will 
be  to  trace  the  footsteps  of  our  illustrious  personage  from  the  first 
round  on  the  ladder  of  fame  to  the  last  on  its  giddy  eminence. 
With  the  aid  of  patient  courage,  devotion,  and  talent  (which  God 
so  often  gives  to  the  lowly),  great  men  have  thus  struggled  up- 
ward, and  obtained  the  suffrage  of  the  world.  It  is  our  pleasant 
task  to  record  the  instances. 

Henry  Clay  was  a  native  of  Hanover  County,  Virginia,  where, 
in  a  low,  swampy  neighborhood,  called  the  Slashes,  he  was  born,  on 
the  12th  of  April,  1777.  Henry  was  the  fifth  of  a  family  of  seven 
children,  which,  at  an  early  age,  were  left  to  the  care  of  a  wid- 
owed mother.  The  limited  means  at  the  disposal  of  this  lady  did 
not  allow  her  to  bestow  on  her  sons  the  advantages  of  a  classical 
education.  All  the  schooling  that  Henry  enjoyed  at  this  period 


HENRY  CLAY.  131 

of  his  life  was  received  at  the  log  cabin  schoolhouse  of  Pet£r 
Deacon,  an  establishment  consisting  of  one  room,  with  no  floor 
but  the  earth,  and  no  window  but  the  door.  At  this  primitive 
institution  of  learning  Henry  Clay  was  instructed  in  the  import- 
ant mysteries  of  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic,  progressing  in 
the  latter  "as  far  as  practice."  The  circumstances  of  his  early 
life  did  not  allow  him  to  devote  all  his  time  to  study.  He  had  to 
assist  in  the  serious  business  of  providing  for  a  large  family,  and 
in  his  humble  way  did  all  he  could.  He  plowed  in  the  fields, 
and,  when  the  grain  was  ^irnered,  carried  it  to  the  mill  to  be 
converted  into  meal  or  flour.  On  such  occasions  he  generally 
rode  a  horse  without  a  saddle,  and  with  a  rope  for  a  bridle. 
From  this  circumstance  he  became  known  as  the  "Mill-boy  of 
the  Slashes" — a  name  which  will  be  handed  down  to  posterity. 
In  the  political  pageants  of  the  Whig  party  in  later  days,  it  was  a 
common  thing  to  have  a  living  personification  of  the  future  states- 
man. The  horse,  the  meal-bag,  the  rope  bridle,  were  there  to  convey 
a  healthy  sentiment  to  American  minds,  but  the  man  who  crossed 
the  back  of  the  steed  was  probably  a  little  different  to  the  original. 
When  Henry  had  reached  his  fourteenth  year  (1791),  he  was 
placed  in  a  retail  store  at  Richmond,  Virginia.  In  the  mean  time, 
Mrs.  Clay  had  changed  her  condition  for  the  second  time,  and 
united  her  fortunes  to  a  gentleman — Captain  Henry  Watkins — 
not  unworthy  of  her.  Mr.  Watkins  entertained  a  fatherly  regard 
for  the  children,  and  was  especially  attached  to  Henry.  At  his 
suggestion,  Henry  was  removed  from  the  store,  and,  by  his  in- 
fluence, placed  at  a  desk  in  the  office  of  the  clerk  of  the  High 
Court  of  Chancery,  Peter  Tinsley,  Esq.  There  were  several  other 
clerks  in  the  same  office,  and,  when  Henry  made  his  appearance, 
they*  promised  themselves  no  small  amount  of  fun  at  his  expense. 
His  appearance  was  certainly  eccentric.  His  mother  had  dressed 
him  up  in  a  new  suit  of  Figginy  (Virginia)  cloth,  cotton  and  silk 
mixed,  of  the  complexion  of  pepper  and  salt,  with  clean  linen  well 
starched,  and  the  tail  of  his  coat  standing  out  from  his  legs  at  a 
fearful  angle.  So  long  as  the  other  clerks  only  laughed  at  his 
comical  appearance,  Henry  had  nothing  to  say ;  but  when  they 
proceeded  farther,  they  discovered  that  Master  Clay  had  a  tongue 
of  his  own,  and  a  sharp  intellect  to  tip  it  with  venom.  In  a  very 
short  time  he  gained  complete  ascendency  over  them.  They  were 
the  first  to  look  up  to  the  "  Mill-boy  of  the  Slashes." 


132  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

«*A  frequent  visitor  at  Mr.  Tinsley's  office  was  the  venerable 
Chancellor  Wythe.  There  was  something  about  Henry's  appear- 
ance which  attracted  the  chancellor's  attention,  and  induced  him 
to  make  inquiries  about  him.  The  chancellor  needed  an  aman- 
uensis, and  proposed  to  Mr.  Tinsley  that  Henry's  services  should 
be  loaned  to  him.  As  they  were  not  of  much  importance  in  an 
office  where  he  was  merely  a  supernumerary,  the  proposition  was 
readily  acceded  to. 

Henry  Clay  found  a  sincere  friend  and  adviser  in  the  chancellor, 
and  the  latter  soon  discovered  thattte  had  a  willing  and  capable 
•assistant.  One  of  the  fruits  of  this  fortunate  connection  may  be 
seen  to  the  present  day  in  a  folio  volume  of  the  Supreme  Court 
of  the  United  States  at  Washington.  It  is  an  eminently  profound 
work,  abounding  in  quotations  from  Latin  and  Greek  authors. 
These  quotations  were  copied  by  Clay  in  a  neat  and  legible  hand. 
Not  understanding  a  single  Greek  character,  the  young  copyist 
had  to  transcribe  each  letter  by  imitation. 

In  the  latter  part  of  1796,  Henry  Clay  left  the  office  of  Mr. 
Tinsley,  and  became  a  regular  student  of  law  in  the  office  of  At- 
torney General  Brooke.  In  the  following  year  he  was  admitted 
to  practice  by  the  Virginia  Court  of  Appeals,  and  soon  after  re- 
moved to  Lexington,  Kentucky,  to  establish  himself  in  the  pro- 
fession he  had  adopted  with  so  much  devotion.  It  must  not  be 
supposed  that  his  studies  were  confined  to  the  one  year  spent  in 
the  office  of  the  attorney  general.  Under  the  chancellor  he  ac- 
quired the  surest  basis  of  legal  knowledge,  and  all  that  he  needed 
for  the  practice  of  the  law  was  a  methodical  arrangement  of  what 
he  knew. 

He  was  now  in  his  twenty-first  year,  and,  to  use  his  own  words, 
found  himself  in  Lexington  without  patrons,  without  the  favfir  or 
countenance  of  the  great  or  opulent,  without  the  means  of  paying 
his  weekly  board,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  bar  uncommonly  distin- 
guished by  eminent  members.  "  I  remember,"  he  adds,  "  how 
comfortable  I  thought  I  should  be  if  I  could  make  one  hundred 
pounds, Virginia  money,  per  year,  and  with  what  delight  I  received 
the  first  fifteen  shillings  fee."  He  devoted  himself  with  assiduity 
to  his  profession,  and  seized  every  moment  to  improve  himself  in 
learning.  He  became  known  for  his  brilliant  talents  and  for  his 
masterly  oratory,  and,  much  sooner  than  he  anticipated  or  had  a 
right  to  expect,  rushed  into  a  lucrative  practice.  His  subtle  ap- 


HENRY  CLAV,  133 

preciation  of  character,  knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  facul- 
ties of  persuasion,  rendered  him  peculiarly  successful  in  his  ap- 
peals to  a  jury,  and  he  obtained  great  celebrity  for  his  adroit  and 
careful  management  of  criminal  cases. 

Finding  himself  in  a  position  to  act  with  regard  to  the  future, 
he  took  on  himself  the  responsibilities  of  domestic  life,  and  in 
April,  1799 — eighteen  months  after  his  removal  to  Kentucky — 
married  Lucretia  Hart,  daughter  of  Colonel  Thomas  Ilart,  a  gen- 
tleman of  high  standing' in  Lexington,  and  famed  for  his  enter- 
prise, public  spirit,  and  hospitality.  By  this  lady  he  had  a  nu- 
merous family,  several  of  whom  were  married  during  Mr.  Clay's 
lifetime,  and  became  parents  of  a  numerous  progeny,  who  were 
privileged  to  call  the  great  statesman  grandfather. 

Mr.  Clay's  practice  was  destined  to  be  interrupted  by  calls  to 
a  higher  field  of  labor.  The  power  he  exercised  over  masses  of 
human  beings  rendered  him  an  invaluable  speaker  on  political 
subjects.  It  is  unnecessary  to  dwell  on  the  many  criminal  cases 
in  which  he  was  engaged.  They  were  conducted  with  a  skill 
which  made  his  services  of  the  highest  value  to  defendants  in  dan- 
ger of  their  necks.  Men  in  such  a  position  generally  contrive  to 
get  a  counsel  who  can  most  successfully  influence  a  jury,  and 
Henry  Clay  was  seldom  without  a  retaining -fee.  The  success 
of  his  efforts  may  be  estimated  by  the  fact  that,  during  his  long- 
career,  he  never  lost  a  client  by  capital  punishment,  although  it 
is  to  be  feared  many  of  them  deserved  it.  We  will  now  briefly 
refer  to  the  case  that  first  placed  Henry  Clay  on  that  extended 
field  which  he  was  destined  to  fill  so  nobly.  His  entrance  on  the 
theatre  of  public  life  was  as  early  as  1798,  the  year  after  he  re- 
moved to  Kentucky.  A  series  of  articles  were  written  by  his 
pen,  and  published  in  the  Kentucky  Gazette,  advocating  emanci- 
pation doctrines  with  much  earnestness  and  power.  Soon  after- 
ward he  took  the  field  more  openly,  and  headed  a  party  of  eman- 
cipationists during  the  agitation  for  remodeling  the  State  Consti- 
tution, proposing  and  advocating  the  introduction  of  an  article  for 
the  gradual  and  ultimate  abolition  of  slavery  in  the  common- 
wealth. This  decided  step  in  the  cause  of  human  liberty  was  not 
calculated  to  increase  his  popularity,  and,  indeed,  in  later  times, 
gave  his  enemies  many  opportunities  of  heaping  obloquy  on  the 
conscientious  statesman.  Notwithstanding  the  immediate  failure 
of  his  exertions,  Mr.  Clay  never  shrunk  from  the  avowal  of  his 


134  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

sentiments  on  the  subject,  nor  from  practically  acting  on  them 
whenever  the  opportunity  occurred.  For  several  years,  when- 
ever a  slave  brought  an  action  to  recover  his  liberty,  Mr.  Clay 
volunteered  as  his  advocate,  and  he  always  succeeded  in  obtain- 
ing a  decision  in  the  slave's  favor. 

During  the  administration  of  John  Adams  in  1798-1799,  the 
notorious  alien  and  sedition  laws  were  passed,  measures  which 
were  destined  to  arouse  the  fiercest  political  indignation.  By  the 
"  Alien  Law"  the  President  was  authorized  to  order  any  alien 
"  whom  he  should  judge  dangerous  to  the  peace  and  safety"  of 
the  country  "to  depart  out  of  the  territory  within  such  a  time" 
as  he  should  judge  proper,  upon  penalty  of  being  "  imprisoned  for 
a  term  not  exceeding  three  years."  The  Sedition  Law  was  in- 
tended to  curb  the  freedom  of  the  press.  The  apology  for  these 
outrageous  measures  was  that  there  were  many  thousand  French- 
men and  Englishmen  in  the  country  who  were  banded  together 
in  private  societies  for  no  good  purpose  ;  and  that  there  were  two 
hundred  newspapers  published  in  the  United  States,  some  of 
which  were  under  the  control  of  aliens.  The  "  Sedition  Law"  im- 
posed a  heavy  fine,  and  imprisonment  for  a  term  of  years,  "  upon 
such  as  should  combine  or  conspire  together  to  oppose  any  meas- 
ure of  government,  and  upon  such  as  should  write,  print,  utter, 
publish,  etc.,  any  false,  scandalous,  and  malicious  writing  against 
the  government  of  the  United  States  or  the  President." 

Mr.  Clay  was  one  of  the  first  to  express  his  abhorrence  of 
these  extreme  measures,  and  in  doing  so  he  gave  expression  to  the 
common  voice  of  the  state.  The  Legislature  declared  the  law 
to  be  unconstitutional,  and  for  the  part  Mr.  Clay  had  taken  in  this 
happy  decision  he  received  the  title  of  THE  GREAT  COMMONER. 
From  a  Life  of  Henry  Clay  we  quote  the  following  anecdote  of 
the  time :  "  A  gentleman  who  was  present  at  a  meeting  where 
these  obnoxious  laws  were  discussed  describes  the  effect  produced 
by  Mr.  Clay's  eloquence  as  difficult  adequately  to  describe.  The 
populace  had  assembled  in  the  fields  in  the  vicinity  of  Lexington, 
and  were  first  addressed  by  Mr.  George  Nicholas,  a  distinguished 
man  and  a  powerful  speaker.  The  speech  of  Mr.  Nicholas  was 
long  and  eloquent,  and  he  was  greeted  by  the  most  enthusiastic 
cheers  as  he  concluded.  Clay,  being  called  for,  promptly  appear- 
ed, and  made  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  and  impressive  ha- 
rangues ever  addressed  to  a  popular  assembly.  A  striking  evi- 


HENRY  CLAY.  135 

dence  of  its  thrilling  and  effective  character  may  be  found  in  the 
fact  that  when  he  ceased  there  was  no  shout,  no  applause.  So  elo- 
quently had  he  interpreted  the  deep  feelings  of  the  multitude, 
that  they  forgot  the  orator  in  the  absorbing  emotions  he  had  pro- 
duced. A  higher  compliment  can  hardly  be  conceived.  The 
theme  was  a  glorious  one  for  a  young  and  generous  mind  filled 
with  ardor  in  behalf  of  human  liberty,  and  he  did  it  justice.  The 
people  took  Clay  and  Nicholas  upon  their  shoulders,  and,  forcing 
them  into  a  carriage,  drew  them  through  the  streets  amid  shouts 
of  applause.  What  an  incident  for  an  orator  who  had  not  yet  com- 
pleted his  twenty-second  year !" 

Four  years  after  this  Mr.  Clay  was  elected  to  the  General  As- 
sembly of  Kentucky  (1803).  He  had  now  fairly  entered  upon  his 
political  career,  and  all  that  remains  for  us  is  to  indicate  it  in  the 
briefest  manner  possible.  His  first  election  to  Congress  was  in 
1806,  but  it  was  only  for  the  remaining  portion  of  a  term;  and 
in  1807  he  was  again  elected  to  the  General  Assembly  of  Ken- 
tucky, of  which  he  was  chosen  Speaker.  In  1809  he  was  elected 
for  an  'unexpired  term  of  two  years  to  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States.  On  the  expiration  of  this  term  he  was  elected  a  repre- 
sentative to  Congress,  where  he  was  chosen  Speaker  of  the  House 
of  Representatives.  He  was  five  times  re-elected  to  this  honor- 
able post.  In  all  the  prominent  measures  of  the  day  he  took  an 
active  part,  and  especially  distinguished  himself  by  his  earnest 
denunciations  of  the  English  claims  to  right  of  search  and  other 
maritime  prerogatives ;  and  as  he  was  one  of  the  prime  insti- 
gators of  the  war  with  England,  so  during  its  continuance  he  re- 
mained one  of  its  strongest  advocates.  In  consequence  of  the 
active  part  he  took  in  all  matters  relating  to  this  war,  he  was  ap- 
pointed in  1814  one  of  the  commissioners  to  negotiate  the  treaty 
of  peace.  In  France,  whither  he  repaired,  he  was  treated  with 
much  distinction,  and  on  his  return  to  America  was  re-elected  to 
Congress.  In  1819  Mr.  Clay  resigned  his  seat,  and,  with  the  ob- 
ject of  improving  his  pecuniary  position,  returned  to  the  practice 
of  his  profession.  In  a  short  time  he  regained  a  highly  remuner- 
ative practice.  Four  years  later  (1823)  he  was  again  returned 
to  the  House  of  Representatives,  and  at  once  restored  to  his  place 
as  Speaker.  Under  the  administration  of  President  Adams  Mr. 
Clay  was  appointed  Secretary  of  State,  which  office  he  held  until 
1827.  On  the  election  of  GeneralJackson  in  1829,  Clay  retired 


136  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

for  a  while  into  private  life,  but  in  1831  he  was  elected  to  the 
United  States  Senate.  In  1833  he  was  an  unsuccessful  candi- 
date for  the  presidency,  and  was  equally  unsuccessful  in  the  two 
subsequent  campaigns.  Henry  Clay  remained  a  member  of  the 
Senate  till  1842,  when,  finding  that  his  strength  was  insufficient 
to  undergo  the  arduous  tasks  he  imposed  on  it,  he  took  a  formal 
leave  of  the  scene  of  his  long  labors  in  a  speech  which  thrilled 
the  heart  of  the  nation,  and  which  moved  it,  also,  with  shame  that 
a  servant  so  faithful  and  gifted  had  been  neglected.  "  Justice  to 
Clay"  became  a  rallying  cry,  and  in  1844  he  was  once  more  nom- 
inated for  the  highest  office  in  the  gift  of  the  people.  This  time 
the  majority  belonged  to  the  opposite  party,  and  President  Polk 
was  elected.  Clay  remained  in  retirement  until  1849,  when  he 
was  again  returned  to  the  Senate.  The  severe  labors  which  he 
imposed  on  himself  in  the  patriotic  endeavor  to  reconcile  the  in- 
terests of  the  North  and  South  on  the  subject  of  slavery  serious- 
ly impaired  his  already  feeble  health.  He  tendered  his  resigna- 
tion as  senator,  but  before  the  day  named  for  it  to  take  effect  he 
had  breathed  his  last.  He  died  on  the  29th  of  June,  1852,  still 
a  GHEAT  COMMONER,  at  the  age  of  seventy-five.  He  was  buried 
with  great  pomp,  and  the  people  throughout  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  laud  recognized  his  death  as  a  national  calamity. 

Mr.  Clay,  in  his  domestic  relations,  sustained  an  enviable  repu- 
tation as  a  husband,  father,  and  master.  It  was  his  good  fortune 
to  be  united  to  a  lady  of  great  excellence,  and  the  homely  and 
happy  influence  of  her  sway  made  Ashland  a  retreat  of  the  most 
tranquil  delight.  She  was  a  noticeable  housewife,  and  superin- 
tended not  only  the  house,  but  the  farm  of  her  husband,  contain- 
ing upward  of  six  hundred  acres,  and  populated  with  a  small  army 
of  negroes.  Mr.  Clay  was  universally  respected,  and  in  the  im- 
mediate neighborhood  of  his  home  received  a  meed  of  respect  al- 
most amounting  to  adoration.  The  following  anecdote  is  related 
in  Colton's  Life.  Some  few  days  after  the  result  of  the  presidential 
election  of  1844  was  known,  Mr.  Clay  met  a  woman  on  horseback 
as  he  was  walking  in  the  public  road  near  Ashland,  who  stopped 
to  salute  him,  but  immediately  burst  into  tears.  "  Madam,"  in- 
quired Mr.  Clay,  "pray  what  is  the  matter1?"  "Sir,"  said  she, 
in  broken  accents,  "you  do  not  know  me,  but  my  father,  once 
your  neighbor,  always  taught  me  to  revere  you.  I  have  lost  my 
father,  my  husband,  and  my  children,  and  passed  through  other 


HENRY  CLAY.  137 

painful  trials  ;  but  all  of  them  together  have  not  given  me  so  much 
sorrow  as  the  late  disappointment  of  your  friends. " 

Mr.  Clay  was  a  tall  man,  six  feet  one  inch  high,  spare  in  body, 
with  long  arms  and  small  hands.  His  carriage  was  remarkably 
erect,  and  became  additionally  so  in  debate.  Of  his  facial  appear- 
ance we  need  say  nothing.  There  is  scarcely  an  American  family 
in  the  country  that  does  not  possess  a  bust  or  a  portrait  of  the 
famous  "  Mill-boy  of  the  Slashes."  His  temper  was  quick  and 
easily  excited,  but,  like  most  quick-tempered  persons,  he  permit- 
ted nothing  to  linger  behind.  In  his  valedictory  to  the  Senate  of 
the  United  States,  the  following  touching  and  manly  passage  oc- 
curs, with  which  we  close  this  brief  sketch  of  a  great  man  : 

"That  my  nature  is  warm,  my  temper  ardent,  my  disposition 
— especially  in  relation  to  the  public  service — enthusiastic,  I  am 
fully  ready  to  own.  During  a  long  and  arduous  career  of  service 
in  the  public  councils  of  my  country — especially  during  the  last 
eleven  years  I  have  held  a  seat  in  the  Senate — from  the  same 
ardor  and  enthusiasm  of  character,  I  have  no  doubt,  in  the  heat 
of  debate,  and  in  an  honest  endeavor  to  maintain  my  opinions 
against  adverse  opinions  equally  honestly  entertained,  as  to  the 
best  course  to  be  adopted  for  the  public  welfare,  I  may  have  often, 
inadvertently  or  unintentionally,  in  moments  of  excited  debate, 
made  use  of  language  that  has  been  offensive  and  susceptible  of 
injurious  interpretation  toward  my  brother  senators.  If  there  be 
:my  here  who  retain  wounded  feelings  of  injury  or  dissatisfaction 
produced  on  such  occasions,  I  beg  to  assure  them  that  I  now  offer 
the  amplest  apology  for  any  departure  on  my  part  from  the  estab- 
lished rules  of  parliamentary  decorum  and  courtesy.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  assure  the  senators,  one  and  all,  without  exception  and 
without  reserve,  that  I  retire  from  this  Senate-chamber  without 
carrying  with  me  a  single  feeling  of  resentment  or  dissatisfaction 
to  the  Senate  or  any  one  of  its  members." 


JOHN  LEDYARD. 

IN  America,  every  man,  more  or  less,  is  a  traveler.  It  is  not  re- 
markable, therefore,  that  America  has  produced  some  of  the  most 
enterprising  of  the  class.  The  constant  pioneering  which  every 
man  undertakes  in  search  of  fortune  has  given  to  our  citizens  a  nat- 
ural aptitude  for  the  perils,  excitements,  and  rude  pleasures  of  the 
traveler's  lot.  In  a  country  so  vast  as  this,  geographical  ideas  of 
distance  are  forgotten.  We  pay  a  winter  visit  to  our  relatives  in 
New  Orleans,  as  if  that  tropical  city  lay  somewhere  on  the  North 
River.  Thus  accustomed  to  travel  an  immense  continent,  it  is  not 
remarkable  that  our  citizens  penetrate  all  parts  of  Europe  with 
great  rapidity  and  energy,  or  that  some  few,  who  have  a  special 
talent  for  the  vocation,  become  great  and  world-known  travelers. 

One  of  our  earliest  distinguished  men  in  this  way  was  John 
Ledyard,  whose  romantic  story  we  are  now  about  to  condense. 
Ledyard  was  born  in  the  year  1751,  at  Groton,  in  Connecticut. 
His  parents  were  in  easy  circumstances,  but,  on  the  death  of  his 
father,  the  family  were  thrown  into  difficulties,  owing  to  a  fraud 
which  was  practiced  on  the  widow,  depriving  her  of  a  small  es- 
tate which  of  right  was  hers.  Young  Ledyard  received  an  ordi- 
nary grammar-school  education,  and  at  an  early  day  was  placed 
in  a  lawyer's  office.  From  this  irksome  imprisonment  he  was  re- 
leased by  Dr.  Wheelock,  the  amiable  and  pious  founder  of  Dart- 
mouth College,  who  invited  Ledyard  to  enter  his  institution  re- 
cently established  at  Hanover,  New  Hampshire,  and  qualify  him- 
self to  become  a  missionary  among  the  Indians.  This  plan  was 
so  much  in  accordance  with  his  mother's  wishes,  that  Ledyard 
— who  probably  had  an  eye  to  its  romantic  bearings — assent- 
ed to  it.  In  due  time  he  started  for  Hanover,  performing  the 
journey  in  a  broken-down  sulky,  and  bearing  with  him,  in  addi- 
tion to  his  clothes  and  books,  a  queer  assortment  of  calico  cur- 
tains and  "  properties"  for  dramatic-  entertainments.  Ledyard 
had  a  passion  for  plays,  and  burdened  himself  with  these  acces- 
sories of  the  stage  in  order  that  he  might  be  able  to  get  up  some 


JOHN  LED  YARD.  13<j 

private  theatricals  during  the  winter  months.  It  is  to  be  feared 
that  he  thought  more  of  this  matter  than  of  his  studies  ;  for  in 
a  short  time  he  fitted  up  a  stage,  and,  assisted  by  the  other  stu- 
dents, produced  the  tragedy  of  Cato,  himself  playing  the  charac- 
ter of  Syphax  in  a  long  gray  beard,  and  a  dress  of  a  pantomim- 
ical  character  supposed  to  bear  some  resemblance  to  the  natidhal 
costume  of  a  Numidian  prince.  With  a  head  full  of  these  idle 
fancies,  it  is  not  remarkable  that  he  neglected  his  studies,  and 
longed  to  escape  from  the  irksome  routine  of  a  student's  life.  He 
had  only  been  in  the  college  four  months,  when  one  day  he  was 
missed,  and  for  nearly  four  months  nothing  whatever  was  heard 
of  him.  When  he  returned  he  explained  that  he  had  been  tak- 
ing an  excursion  among  the  Six  Nations  on  the  borders  of  Cana- 
da, reviewing  the  missionary  ground,  and  picking  up  some  knowl- 
edge of  the  manners  and  language  of  the  Indians.  The  impres- 
sions he  received  on  this  tour  were  not  favorable  to  the  mission- 
ary project.  He  abandoned  it  in  his  own  mind,  and  only  waited' 
for  an  opportunity  to  cut  loose  from  the  college  and  its  associ- 
ations. Every  day  this  determination  received  new  strength, 
inasmuch  as  every  day  he  received  some  fresh  hint  from  Dr. 
Wheelock  concerning  the  value  of  time  and  necessity  for  well- 
disciplined  study. 

It  was  not  an  easy  thing  to  escape  from  Dartmouth  College  in 
those  days,  and  Ledyard  had  to  exercise  all  his  ingenuity  to  do 
so.  To  go  away  on  foot  was  out  of  the  question  ;  of  public  con- 
veyances there  were  none,  and  the  use  of  a  private  one  could  not 
be  obtained  without  exciting  suspicion.  In  this  state  of  things, 
he  directed  all  his  attention  to  the  Connecticut  River,  which  flow- 
ed past  the  college  grounds.  Along  its  margin  he  observed  a 
number  of  glorious  old  trees,  monarchs  of  the  forest,  which  had 
stood  there  for  centuries.  One  of  these  Ledyard  contrived  to  cut 
down,  and  then  wrought  its  huge  trunk  into  a  canoe.  When  the 
work  was  finished,  he  bade  adieu  to  the  home  of  the  Muses,  and 
set  off  alone  to  explore  a  river  with  the  navigation  of  which  he 
was  entirely  ignorant.  The  distance  to  Hartford  was  not  less 
than  one  hundred  and  forty  miles,  much  of  the  way  being  through 
dark,  primeval  forests,  and  in  several  places  there  were  dangerous 
falls  and  rapids.  Pie  had  a  bearskin  for  a  covering,  and  his  ca- 
noe was  liberally  provisioned,  so  that  he  had  little  to  apprehend 
save  from  these  dangers.  Of  books  he  took  but  two :  a  Greek 


HO  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

Testament  and  a  copy  of  Ovid.  With  these  lie  amused  himself 
while  the  canoe  dropped  leisurely  down  the  stream.  One  day  he 
was  deeply  absorbed  in  his  reading  when  his  canoe  approached 
Bellows'  Falls,  where  he  was  suddenly  aroused  by  the  dashing 
of  the  waters  among  the  rocks  as  they  passed  through  the  narrow 
passage.  With  ditliculty  he  gained  the  shore,  and  thus  escaped 
inevitable  destruction.  With  the  exception  of  this  adventure,  we 
hear  of  no  other  incident  in  his  voyage  worth  recording.  He  ar- 
lived  in  safety  at  Hartford,  much  to  the  astonishment  of  his  rel- 
atives. 

Ledyard,  after  tliis,  appears  to  have  conceived  a  violent  desire 
to  become  a  clergyman,  and  he  applied  to  the  clergy  for  approval 
as  a  candidate  with  his  usual  impetuosity,  but  with  no  success. 
He  was  greatly  disappointed  at  the  moment,  but,  a  few  weeks 
later,  he  cheerfully  abandoned  all  ideas  of  the  Church,  and  took 
to  the  very  opposite  profession  of  the  sea.  He  entered  himself 
•as  a  common  sailor  for  a  voyage  to  the  Mediterranean,  but  was 
treated  by  the  captain  rather  as  a  friend  and  associate  than  as 
one  of  the  crew.  The  voyage  was  first  to  Gibraltar,  next  to  a 
port  on  the  Barbary  coast,  for  taking  in  a  cargo  of  mules,  and 
thence  homeward  by  way  of  the  West  Indies.  While  the  vessel 
was  lying  at  Gibraltar,  Ledyard  was  suddenly  missed.  Inquiries 
were  made  in  the  town  without  success.  At  length  a  messenger 
was  dispatched  to  the  barracks.  There  he  was  discovered  in  the 
full  costume  of  a  British  soldier.  He  explained  the  circumstance 
by  stating  that  he  had  a  fondness  for  the  profession  of  arms,  and 
had  therefore  enlisted  in  the  king's  service.  The  captain  of  the 
vessel  remonstrated  with  him,  and,  with  his  consent,  fortunately 
secured  a  discharge. 

The  voyage  took  about  a  year  to  complete,  and  at  the  end  of 
that  time  he  found  himself  once  more  in  America,  with  nothing 
in  his  pocket,  and  no  prospect  before  him  for  the  future.  He  was 
now  in  his  twenty-second  year,  and  began  to  realize  the  necessity 
of  striking  out  a  course  of  action  for  himself.  His  erratic  con- 
duct had  wearied  his  friends.  He  had  no  one  to  depend  on  but 
himself,  and  no  one  to  look  to,  unless,  indeed,  it  were  some  rel- 
atives of  his  grandfather,  who  was  an  Englishman  of  good  fam- 
ily, and  had  many  connections  in  Britain.  The  idea  of  hunting 
up  these  lost  relatives  was  pleasing  to  his  adventurous  mind,  and 
he  determined  to  do  so.  For  this  purpose,  he  started  out  once 


JOHN  LEDYARD.  141 

more  ;  took  ship  at  New  York,  and  in  due  time  arrived  at  Plym- 
outh, England.  .Being  entirely  without  means,  he  was  com- 
pelled to  travel  on  foot  from  this  port  to  London.  Arrived  in 
the  English  metropolis,  he  made  a  single  effort  to  discover  his  lost 
relatives,  but,  finding  that  his  story  was  doubted,  he  abandoned 
the  undertaking  in  disgust.  With  beggary  staring  him  in  the 
face,  he  had  now  to  determine  quickly  his  future  plans. 

In  a  crowded  city  like  London,  there  was  little  chance  of  em- 
ployment for  a  stranger  who  knew  nothing  of  business,  and  was 
not  master  of  a  trade.  His  hopes  lay  in  the  maritime  profes- 
sion. He  knew  how  to  handle  a  rope  as  well  as  any  other 
Jack  Tar,  and  perhaps  had  some  other  and  more  valuable  nau- 
tical lore.  At  the  time  of  his  visit  a  great  deal  of  attention  was 
directed  to  seafaring  matters.  The  celebrated  circumnavigator, 
Captain  Cook,  was  on  the  eve  of  departure  for  his  third  and 
List  great  voyage  round  the  world,  and  was,  of  course,  the  espe- 
c  ial  object  of  conversation.  Ledyard's  enterprising  spirit  thirst- 
ed for  such  a  cruise,  and  he  made  up  his  mind  to  use  every  en- 
deavor to  accompany  the  famous  captain.  As  a  preliminary 
ptep,  he  enlisted  in  the  marines.  Then  he  applied  to  the  cap- 
tain, and,  by  dint  of  persuasion  and  assiduity,  succeeded  in  ob- 
taining an  appointment.  Cook's  great  knowledge  of  men  ena- 
l>led  him  to  form  an  instant  estimate  of  Ledyard's  character,  and 
that  it  was  no  mean  estimate  was  immediately  proved  by  his 
promoting  him  to  be  corporal  of  marines.  In  this  manner  did 
Ledyard  commence  the  career  for  which  nature  had  evidently  in- 
tended him,  and  which  was  destined  to  give  renown  to  his  name 
for  ages  afterward. 

The  expedition,  consisting  of  two  ships,  the  Resolution  and  the 
Discovery,  left  England  on  the  12th  of  July,  1776,  and  proceeded 
at  once  to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  where  the  final  arrangements 
for  the  voyage  were  completed.  The  men  of  science  made  short 
incursions  into  the  interior  to  test  the  accuracy  of  their  instru- 
ments ;  the  sailors  busied  themselves  in  making  all  taut  and  com- 
fortable ;  and  the  stewards  interested  themselves  in  the  riches  of 
the  larder.  Last  of  all  were  taken  on  board  a  heterogeneous  col- 
lection of  animals,  designed  to  be  left  at  islands  where  they  did 
not  exist,  and  consisting  of  horses,  cattle,  sheep,  goats,  hogs,  dogs,- 
cats,  hares,  rabbits,  monkeys,  ducks,  geese,  turkeys,  and  peacocks. 
"  Thus,"  says  Ledyard,  "  did  we  resemble  the  ark,  and  appear  as 


142  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

1  hough  we  were  going  as  well  to  stock,  as  to  discover,  a  new 
world." 

The  events  of  this  voyage  are  known  to  most  readers.  Led- 
yard,  on  his  return,  wrote  a  book  describing  what  he  had  seen  in  a 
picturesque  and  attractive  style.  We  lack  the  necessary  space  for 
following  the  narrative,  although  it  would  be  found  extremely  in- 
teresting. It  must  suffice  that  Ledyard  enjoyed  the  confidence  of 
Captain  Cook,  and  was  frequently  employed  to  execute  little  tasks 
apart  from  his  regular  duties.  One  of  these  was  so  characteristic 
of  the  daring  of  the  man,  that  we  shall  transcribe  it  in  his  own 
words.  It  happened  at  the  island  of  Onalaska.  "  I  have  before 
observed  that  we  had  noticed  many  appearances  to  the  eastward 
of  this,  as  far  almost  as  Sandwich  Sound,  of  a  European  inter- 
course, and  that  we  had,  at  this  island  in  particular,  met  with  cir- 
cumstances that  did  not  only  indicate  such  an  intercourse,  but 
seemed  strongly  to  intimate  that  some  Europeans  were  actually 
somewhere  on  the  spot.  The  appearances  that  led  to  these  con- 
jectures were  such  as  these.  We  found  among  the  inhabitants 
of  this  island  two  different  kinds  of  people  ;  the  one  we  knew  to 
be  the  aborigines  of  America,  while  we  supposed  the  others  to 
have  come  from  the  opposite  coasts  of  Asia.  There  were  two  dif- 
ferent dialects  also  observed,  and  we  found  them  fond  of  tobacco, 
vum,  and  snuff.  Tobacco  we  even  found  them  possessed  of,  and 
we  observed  several  blue  linen  shirts  and  drawers  among  them. 

"But  the  most  remarkable  circumstance  was  a  cake  of  rye 
meal  newly  baked,  with  a  piece  of  salmon  in  it,  seasoned  with  pep- 
per and  salt,  which  was  brought  and  presented  to  Cook  by  a  come- 
ly young  chief,  attendM  by  two  of  those  Indians  whom  we  sup- 
posed to  be  Asiatics.  The  chief  seemed  anxious  to  explain  to 
Cook  the  meaning  of  the  present  and  the  purport  of  his  visit ;  and 
he  was  so  far  successful  as  to  persuade  him  that  there  were  some 
strangers  in  the  country,  who  were  white,  and  had  come  over  the 
great  waters  in  a  vessel  somewhat  like  ours,  and,  though  not  so 
large,  was  yet  much  larger  than  theirs. 

"  In  consequence  of  this,  Cook  was  determined  to  explore  the 
island.  It  was  difficult,  however,  to  fix  upon  a  plan  that  would 
at  once  answer  the  purpose  of  safety  and  expedition.  An  armed 
body  would  proceed  slowly,  and,  if  they  should  be  cut  off  by  the 
Indians,  |he  loss  in  our  present  circumstances  would  be  irrepara- 
ble ;  and  a  single  person  would  entirely  risk  -his  life,  though  he 


JOHN  LEDYABD.  143 

would  be  much  more  expeditious  if  unmolested,  and  if  he  should 
be  killed,  the  loss  would  be  only  one.  The  latter  seemed  the  best, 
but  it  was  extremely  hard  to  single  out  an  individual,  and  com- 
mand him  to  go  upon  such  an  expedition.  It  was  therefore 
thought  proper  to  send  a  volunteer,  or  none. 

"  I  was  at  this  time,  and  indeed  ever  after,  an  intimate  friend  of 
John  Gore,  first  lieutenant  of  the  Resolution,  a  native  of  America 
us  well  as  myself,  and  superior  to  me  in  command.  He  recom- 
mended me  to  Captain  Cook  to  undertake  the  expedition,  with 
which  I  immediately  acquiesced.  Captain  Cook  assured  me  that 
he  was  happy  I  had  undertaken  it,  as  he  was  convinced  I  should 
persevere  ;  and  after  giving  me  some  instructions  how  to  proceed, 
he  wished  me  well,  and  desired  I  would  not  be  longer  absent  than 
a  week,  if  possible,  at  the  expiration  of  which  he  should  expect 
me  to  return.  If  I  did  not  return  by  that  time,  he  should  wait 
another  week  for  me,  and  no  longer.  The  young  chief  before 
mentioned  and  his  two  attendants  were  to  be  my  guides.  I  took 
with  me  some  presents  adapted  to  the  taste  of  the  Indians,  brandy 
in  bottles,  and  bread,  but  no  other  provisions.  I  went  entirely 
unarmed,  by  the  advice  of  Captain  Cook. 

"  The  first  day  we  proceeded  about  fifteen  miles  into  the  inte- 
rior part  of  the  island,  without  any  remarkable  occurrence,  until 
we  approached  a  village  just  before  night.  This  village  consisted 
of  about  thirty  huts,  some  of  them  large  and  spacious,  though  not 
very  high.  The  huts  were  composed  of  a  kind  of  slight  frame, 
erected  over  a  square  hole  sunk  about  four  feet  into  the  ground ; 
the  frame  is  covered  at  the  bottom  with  turf,  and  upward  it  is 
thatched  with  coarse  grass.  The  whole  village  was  out  to  see  us, 
and  men,  women,  and  children  crowded  about  me.  I  was  con- 
ducted by  the  young  chief  who  was  my  guide,  and  seemed  proud 
and  assiduous  to  serve  me,  into  one  of  the  largest  huts. 

"  I  was  surprised  at  the  behavior  of  the  Indians,  for,  though 
they  were  curious  to  see  me,  yet  they  did  not  express  that  extra- 
ordinary curiosity  that  would  be  expected  had  they  never  seen  a 
European  before  ;  and  I  was  glad  to  pes^eive  it,  as  it  was  an  evi- 
dence in  favor  of  what  I  wished  to  find  true,  namely,  that  there 
were  Europeans  now  among  them.  The  women  of  the  house, 
which  were  almost  the  only  ones  that  I  had  seen  at  this  island, 
were  much  more  tolerable  than  I  expected  to  find  them ;  one,  in 
particular,  seemed  very  busy  to  please  me ;  to  her,  therefore,  I 


144  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

made  several  presents,  with  which  she  was  extremely  well  pleased. 
As  it  was  now  dark,  nfy  young  chief  intimated  to  me  that  we  mu:-t 
tarry  where  we  were  that  night,  and  proceed  further  the  next  day, 
to  which  I  very  readily  consented,  being  much  fatigued.  Our  en- 
tertainment, the  subsequent  part  of  the  evening,  did  not  consist  of 
delicacies,  or  much  variety ;  they  had  dried  fish,  and  I  had  bread 
•and  spirits,  of  which  we  all  participated.  Ceremony  was  not  in- 
vited to  the  feast,  and  Nature  presided  over  the  entertainment. 

"At  daylight,  Perpheela  (which  was  the  name  of  the  young 
chief  that  was  my  guide)  let  me  know  that  he  was  ready  to  go  on, 
upon  which  I  flung  off  the  skins  I  had  slept  in,  put  on  my  shoes 
and  outside  vest,  and  arose  to  accompany  him,  repeating  my  pres- 
ents to  my  friendly  hosts.  We  had  hitherto  traveled  in  a  north- 
erly direction,  but  now  went  to  the  westward  and  southward.  I 
was  now  so  much  relieved  from  the  apprehension  of  any  insult  or 
injury  from  the  Indians,  that  my  journey  would  have  been  even 
agreeable  had  I  not  been  taken  lame  with  a  swelling  in  the  feet, 
which  rendered  it  extremely  painful  to  walk ;  the  country  was 
also  rough  and  hilly,  and  the  weather  wet  and  cold.  About  three 
hours  before  dark  we  came  to  a  large  bay,  which  appeared  to  be 
four  leagues  over. 

"  Here  my  guide,  Perpheela,  took  a  canoe  and  all  our  baggage, 
and  set  off,  seemingly  to  cross  the  bay.  He  appeared  to  leave  me 
in  an  abrupt  manner,  and  told  me  to  follow  the  two  attendants. 
This  gave  me  some  uneasiness.  I  now  followed  Perpheela's  two 
attendants,  keeping  the  bay  in  view ;  but  we  had  not  gone  above 
six  miles  before  we  saw  a  canoe  approaching  us  from  the  opposite 
side  of  the  bay,  in  which  were  two  Indians.  As  soon  as  my  guides 
saw  the  canoe,  we  ran  to  the  shore  from  the  hills  and  hailed  them, 
and  finding  they  did  not  hear  us,  we  got  some  bushes  and  waved 
them  in  the  air,  which  they  saw,  and  stood  directly  for  us.  This 
canoe  was  sent  by  Perpheela  to  bring  me  across  the  bay,  and 
shorten  the  distance  of  the  journey. 

"  It  was  beginning  to  be  dark  when  the  canoe  came  to  us.  It 
was  a  skin  canoe,  afterqlhe  Esquimaux  plan,  with  two  holes  to 
accommodate  two  sitters.  The  Indians  that  came  in  the  canoe 
talked  a  little  with  my  two  guides,  and  then  came  to  me  and 
desired  I  would  get  into  the  canoe.  This  I  did  not  very  readily 
agree  to,  however,  as  there  was  no  other  place  for  me  but  to  be 
thrust  into  the  space  between  the  holes,  extended  at  length  upon 


JOHN  LED  YARD.  145 

my  back,  and  wholly  excluded  from  seeing  the  way  I  went,  or  the 
power  of  extricating  myself'  upon  any  emergency ;  but,  as  there 
was  no  alternative,  I  submitted  thus  to  be  stowed  away  in  bulk, 
and  went  head  foremost  veiy  swift  through  the  water  about  an 
hour,  when  I  felt  the  canoe  strike  a  beach,  and  afterward  lifted 
up  and  carried  some  distance,  and  then  set  down  again ;  after 
which  I  was  drawn  out  by  the  shoulders  by  three  or  four  men, 
for  it  was  now  so  dark  that  I  could  not  tell  who  they  were,  though 
I  was  conscious  I  heard  a  language  that  was  new. 

"  I  was  conducted  by  two  of  these  persons,  who  appeared  to  be 
strangers,  about  fifty  rods,  when  I  saw  lights,  and  a  number  of 
huts  like  those  I  saw  in  the  morning.  As  we  approached  one  ol 
them  a  door  opened,  and  discovered  a  lamp,  by  which,  to  my  joy 
and  surprise,  I  discovered  that  the  two  men  who  held  me  by  each 
arm  were  Europeans,  fair  and  comely,  and  concluded  from  their 
appearance  they  were  Russians,  which  I  soon  after  found  to  "be 
true.  As  we  entered  the  hut,  which  was  particularly  long,  I  saw, 
arranged  on  each  side,  on  a  platform  of  plank,  a  number  of  Indians, 
who  all  bowed  to  me  ;  and  as  I  advanced  to  the  further  end  of  the 
hut,  there  were  other  Russians.  When  I  reached  the  end  of  the 
room,  I  was  seated  on  a  bench  covered  with  fur  skins,  and  as  I 
was  much  fatigued,  wet,  and  cold,  I  had  a  change  of  garments 
brought  me,  consisting  of  a  blue  silk  shirt  and  drawers,  a  fur  cap, 
boots,  and  gown,  all  which  I  put  on  with  the  same  cheerfulness 
they  were  presented  with.  Hospitality  is  a  virtue  peculiar  to  man, 
and  the  obligation  is  as  great  to  receive  as  to  confer. 

"As  soon  as  I  was  rendered  warm  and  comfortable,  a  table 
was  set  before  me  with  a  lamp  upon  it ;  all  the  Russians  in  the 
house  sat  down  round  me,  and  the  bottles  of  spirits,  tobacco,  snuff, 
and  whatever  Perpheela  had,  were  brought  and  set  upon  it.  These 
I  presented  to  the  company,  intimating  that  they  were  presents 
from  Commodore  Cook,  who  was  an  Englishman.  One  of  the 
company  then  gave  me  to  understand  that  all  the  white  people  I 
saw  there  were  subjects  of  the  Empress  Catharine  of  Russia,  and 
rose  and  kissed  my  hand,  the  rest  uncovering  their  heads.  I  then 
informed  them,  as  well  as  I  could,  that  Commodore  Cook  wanted 
to  see  some  of  them,  and  had  sent  me  there  to  conduct  them  to 
our  ships. 

"  These  preliminaries  over,  we  had  supper,  which  consisted  of 
boiled  whale,  halibut  fried  in  oil,  and  broiled  salmon.  The  lat- 

G 


146  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ter  I  ate,  and  they  gave  me  rye  bread,  but  would  eat  none  of  it 
themselves.  They  were  very  fond  of  the  rum,  which  they  drank 
without  any  mixture  or  measure.  I  had  a  very  comfortable  bed, 
composed  of  different  fur  skins  both  under  and  over  me,  and,  be- 
ing harassed  the  preceding  day,  I  went  soon  to  rest.  After  1  had 
lain  down,  the  Russians  assembled  the  Indians  in  a  very  silent 
manner,  and  said  prayers  after  the  manner  of  the  Greek  Church, 
which  is  much  like  the  Roman. 

"  I  could  not  but  observe  with  what  particular  satisfaction  the 
Indians  performed  their  devoirs  to  God  through  the  medium  of 
their  little  crucifixes,  and  with  what  pleasure  they  went  through 
the  multitude  of  ceremonies  attendant  on  that  sort  of  worship. 
1  think  it  a  religion  the  best  calculated  in  the  world  to  gain  pros- 
elytes, when  the  people  are  either  unwilling  or  unable  to  specu- 
late, or  when  they  can  not  be  made  acquainted  with  the  history 
and  principles  of  Christianity  without  a  formal  education. 

"  I  had  a  very  comfortable  night's  rest,  and  did  not  wake  the 
next  morning  until  late.  As  soon  as  I  was  up,  I  was  conducted 
to  a  hut  at  a  little  distance  from  the  one  I  had  slept  in,  where  I 
saw  a  number  of  platforms  raised  about  three  feet  from  the  ground, 
and  covered  with  dry  coarse  grass  and  some  small  green  bushes. 
There  were  several  of  the  Russians  already  here  besides  those 
that  conducted  me,  and  several  Indians,  who  were  heating  water 
in  a  large  copper  caldron  over  a  furnace,  the  heat  of  which,  and 
the  steam  which  evaporated  from  the  hot  water,  rendered  the  hut, 
which  was  very  tight,  extremely  hot  and  suffocating. 

"  I  soon  understood  this  was  a  hot  bath,  of  which  I  was  asked 
to  make  use  in  a  friendly  manner.  The  apparatus  being  a  little 
curious,  I  consented  to  it ;  but,  before  I  had  finished  undressing 
myself,  I  was  overcome  by  the  sudden  change  of  the  air,  fainted 
away,  and  fell  back  on  the  platform  I  was  sitting  on.  I  was, 
however,  soon  relieved  by  having  cold  and  lukewarm  water  ad- 
ministered to  my  face  and  different  parts  of  my  body.  I  finished 
undressing,  and  proceeded  as  I  saw  the  rest  do,  who  were  now 
all  undressed.  The  Indians,  who  served  us,  brought  us,  as  we 
sat  or  extended  ourselves  on  the  platforms,  water  of  different  tem- 
peratures, from  that  which  was  as  hot  as  we  could  bear,  to  quite 
cold.  The  hot  water  was  accompanied  with  some  hard  soap  and 
a  flesh-brush.  It  was  not,  however,  thrown  on  the  body  from  the 
dish,  but  sprinkled  on  with  the  green  bushes.  After  this,  the 


JOHN  LEDYARD-  147 

water  made  use  of  was  less  warm,  and  by  several  gradations  be- 
came at  last  quite  cold,  which  concluded  the  ceremony. 

"We  again  dressed  and  returned  to  our  lodgings,  where  our 
breakfast  was  smoking  on  the  table ;  but  the  flavor  of  our  feast, 
as  well  as  ks  appearance,  had  nearly  produced  a  relapse  in  my 
spirits,  and  no  doubt  would,  if  I  had  not  had  recourse  to  some  of 
the  brandy  I  had  brought,  which  happily  served  me.  I  was  a 
good  deal  uneasy  lest  the  cause  of  my  discomposure  should  dis- 
oblige my  friends,  who  meant  to  treat  me  in  the  best  manner  they 
could.  I  therefore  attributed  my  illness  to  the  bath,  which  might 
possibly  have  partly  occasioned  it,  for  I  am  not  very  subject  to 
fainting.  I  could  eat  none  of  the  breakfast,  however,  though  far 
from  wanting  an  appetite.  It  was  mostly  of  whale,  sea-horse, 
and  bear,  which,  though  smoked,  dried,  and  boiled,  produced  a 
composition  of  smells  very  offensive  at  nine  or  ten  in  the  morn- 
ing. I  therefore  desired  I  might  have  a  piece  of  smoked  salmon 
broiled  dry,  which  I  ate  with  some  of  my  own  biscuit. 

"After  breakfast  I  intended  to  set  off  on  my  return  to  the 
ships,  though  there  came  on  a  disagreeable  snow-storm ;  but  my 
new-found  friends  objected  to  it,  and  gave  me  to  understand  that 
I  should  go  the  next  day,  and,  if  I  chose,  three  of  them  would  Qf,- 
company  me.  This  I  immediately  agreed  to,  as  it  anticipated  a  fa- 
vor I  intended  to  ask  them,  though  I  before  much  doubted  wheth- 
er they  would  comply  with  it.  I  amused  myself  within  doors 
while  it  snowed  without,  by  writing  down  a  few  words  of  the  orig- 
inal languages  of  the  American  Indians  and  of  the  Asiatics,  who 
came  over  to  this  coast  with  these  Russians  from  Kamtschatka. 

"  In  the  afternoon  the  weather  cleared  up,  and  I  went  out  to 
see  how  those  Russian  adventurers  were  situated.  I  found  the 
whole  village  to  contain  about  thirty  huts,  all  of  which  were  built 
partly  under  ground,^  and  covered  with  turf  at  the  bottom  and 
coarse  grass  at  the  top.  The  only  circumstance  that  can  recom- 
mend them  is  their  warmth,  which  is  occasioned  partly  by  their 
manner  of  construction,  and  partly  by  a  kind  of  oven,  in  which 
they  constantly  keep  a  fire  night  and  day.  They  sleep  on  plat- 
forms built  on  each  side  of  the  hut,  on  which  they  have  a  num- 
ber of  bear  and  other  skins,  which  render  them  comfortable  ;  and 
as  they  have  been  educated  in  a  hardy  manner,  they  need  little  or 
no  other  support  than  what  they  procure  from  the  sea  and  from 
hunting. 


148  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

"  The  number  of  Russians  were  about  thirty,  and  they  had 
with  them  about  seventy  Kamtschatdales,  or  Indians  from  Kamt- 
schatka. These,  with  some  of  the  American  Indians  whom  they 
had  entered  into  friendship  with,  occupied  the  village,  enjoyed  ev- 
ery benefit,  in  common  with  the  Russians,  and  were*onverts  to 
their  religion.  Such  other  of  the  aborigines  of  the  island  as  had 
not  become  converts  to  their  sentiments  in  religious  and  civil  mat- 
ters were  excluded  from  such  privileges,  and  were  prohibited 
from  wearing  certain  arms.  •  .-- 

"  I  also  found  a  small  sloop  of  about  thirty  tons'  burden  lying 
in  a  cove  behind  the  village,  and  a  hut  near  her  containing  her 
sails,  cordage,  and  other  sea  equipage,  and  one  old  .iron  three 
pounder.  It  is  natural  to  an  ingenuous  mind,  when  it  enters  «i 
town,  a  house,  or  ship  that  has  been  rendered  famous  by  any 
particular  event,  to  feel  the  full  force  of  that  pleasure  which  re- 
sults from  gratifying  a  noble  curiosity-  I  was  no  sooner  informed 
that  this  sloop  was  the  same  in  which  the  famous  Behring  had 
performed  those  discoveries  which  did  him  so  much  honor  and  his 
country  such  great  service,  than  I  was  determined  to  go  on  board 
of  her  and  indulge  the  generous  feelings  the  occasion  inspired. 

^"  I  intimated  my  wishes  to  the  man  that  accompanied  me,  who 
went  back  to  the  village  and  brought  a  canoe,  in  which  we  went 
on  board,  where  I  remained  about  an  hour,  and  then  returned. 
This  little  bark  belonged  to  Kamtschatka,  and  came  from  thence 
with  the  Asiatics  already  mentioned  to  this  island,  which  they 
call  Onalaska,  in  order  to  establish  a  pelt  and  fur  factoiy.  They 
had  been  here  about  five  years,  and  go  over  to  Kamtschatka  once 
a  year  to  deliver  their  merchandise  and  get  a  recruit  of  such  sup- 
plies as  they  need  from  the  chief  factory  there. 

"  The  next  day  I  set  off  from  this  village,  well  satisfied  with 
the  happy  issue  of  a  tour  which  was  now  as  agreeable  as  it  was 
at  first  undesirable.  I  was  accompanied  by  three  of  the  princi- 
pal Russians  and  some  attendants.  We  embarked  at  the  village 
in  a  large  skin  boat,  much  like  our  large  whale-boats,  rowing  with 
twelve  oars  ;  and,  as  we  struck  directly  across  the  bay,  we  short- 
ened our  distance  several  miles,  and  the  next  day,  passing  the 
same  village  I  had  before  been  at,  we  arrived  by  sunset  at  the 
bay  where  the  ships  lay,  and  before  dark  I  got  on  board  with  our 
new  acquaintances.  The  satisfaction  this  discovery  gave  Cook, 
and  the  honor  that  redounded  to  me,  may  be  easily  imagined,  and 


JOHN  LEPYAKU.  149 

the  several  conjectures  respecting  the  appearance  of  a  foreign  in- 
tercourse were  rectified  and  confirmed." 

It  will  be  seen  that  Ledyard's  pen  was  extremely  minute,  and 
capable  of  jotting  down  impressions  with  much  vividness.  The 
book  from  which  the  above  extract  is  made  was  written  from 
memory,  and  with  the  object  of  allaying  the  public  appetite,  which 
had  been  greatly  excited  by  rumors  of  the  varied  incidents  of 
Cook's  last,  sad  voyage.  We  have  not  the  requisite  space  for 
following  the  author  in  his  narrative  of  the  cruise,  but  as  Ledyard 
was  present  at  the  death  of  Captain  Cook,  his  description  of  that 
event  will  be  read  with  interest.  The.  expedition  returned  to  the 
Society  Islands,  and  remained  there  for  some  days  refitting  and 
making  all  needful  preparations  for  the  voyage  to  the  north  pole. 
During  their  sojourn  they  were  constantly  annoyed  by  the  thiev- 
ish propensities  of  the  natives.  To  put  a  stop  to  this,  Cook,  in 
accordance  with  his  invariable  custom,  seized  some  conspicuous 
chief,  and  held  him  as  hostage  until  the  missing  properties  were 
returned.  Owing  to  this,  a  coldness  sprung  up  between  the  na- 
tives and  the  English,  and  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that 
the  latter  could  obtain  a  supply  of  provisions.  The  events  which 
follow  occurred  in  Kearakekua  Bay : 

"  Our  return  to  this  bay,"  says  Mr.  Ledyard,  "  was  as  disagree- 
uble  to  us  as  it  was  to  the  inhabitants,  for  we  were  reciprocally 
tired  of  each^  other*  They  had  been  oppressed,  and  we  were 
weary  of  our  prostituted  alliance,  and  we  were  aggrieved  by  the 
consideration  of  wanting  the  provisions  and  refreshments  of  the 
countiy,  which  we  had  every  reason  to  suppose,  from  their  be- 
havior antecedent  to  our  departure,  would  now  be  withheld  from 
us,  or  brought  in  such  small  quantities  as  to  be  worse  than  none. 
What  we  anticipated  was  true.  When  we  entered  the  bay,  where 
before  we  had  the  shouts  of  thousands  to  welcome  our  arrival, 
we  had  the  mortification  not  to  see  a  single  canoe,  and  hardly  any 
inhabitants  in  the  towns.  Cook  was  chagrined,  and  his  people 
were  soured. 

"Toward  night,  however,  the  canoes  came  in,  but  the  provi- 
sions, both  in  quantity  and  quality,  plainly  informed  us  that  times 
were  altered ;  and  what  was  very  remarkable  was  the  exor- 
bitant price  they  asked,  and  the  particular  fancy  they  all  at  once 
took  to  iron  daggers  or  dirks,  which  were  the  only  articles  that 
were  any  ways  current,  with  the  chiefs  at  least.  It  was  also 


150  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

equally  evident  from  the  looks  of  the  natives,  as  well  as  every 
other  appearance,  that  our  former  friendship  was  at  an  end,  and 
that  we  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  hasten  our  departure  to  some 
different  island  where  our  vices  were  not  known,  and  where  our 
extrinsic  virtues  might  gain  us  another  short  space  of  being  won- 
dered at,  and  doing  as  we  pleased,  or,  as  our  tars  expressed  it,  of 
being  happy  by  the  month. 

"  Nor  wjas  their  passive  appearance  of  disgust  all  we  had  to 
fear,  nor  did  it  continue  long.  Before  dark  a  canoe,  with  a  num- 
ber of  armed  chiefs,  came  alongside  of  us  without  provisions,  and, 
indeed,  without  any  perceptible  design.  After  staying  a  short 
time  only,  they  went  to  the  Discovery,  where  a  part  of  them  went 
on  board.  Here  they  affected  great  friendship,  and,  unfortunate- 
ly overacting  it,  Clerke  was  suspicious,  and  ordered  two  sentinels 
on  the  gangways.  These  men  were  purposely  sent  by  the  chief, 
who  had  formerly  been  so  very  intimate  with  Clerke,  and  after- 
ward so  ill  treated  by  him,  with  the  charge  of  stealing  his  jolly- 
boat.  They  came  with  a  determination  of  mischief,  and  effected  it. 

"  After  they  were  all  returned  to  the  canoe  but  one,  they  got 
their  paddles  and  every  thing  ready  for  a  start.  Those  in  the 
canoes,  observing  the  sentinel  to  be  watchful,  took  off  his  atten- 
tion by  some  conversation  that  they  knew  would  be  pleasing  to 
him,  and  by  this  means  favored  the  designs  of  the  man  on  board, 
who,  watching  his  opportunity,  snatched  tw^  pairs  ,of  tongs,  and 
other  iron  tools  that  then  lay  close  by  the  armorers  at  work  at 
the  forge,  and,  mounting  the  gangway-rail,  with  one  leap  threw 
himself  and  his  goods  into  the  canoe,  that  was  then  upon  the 
move,  and,  taking  up  his  paddle,  joined  the  others  ;  and,  standing 
directly  for  the  shore,  they  were  out  of  our  reach  almost  instan- 
taneously, even  before  a  musket  could  be  had  from  the  arms'-chest 
to  fire  at  them.  The  sentries  had  only  hangers. 

"  This  was  the  boldest  exploit  that  had  yet  been  attempted,  and 
had  a  bad  aspect.  Clerke  immediately  sent  to  the  commodore, 
who  advised  him  to  send  a  boat  on  shore  to  endeavor  to  regain 
the  goods,  if  they  could  not  the  men  who  obtained  them  ;  but  the 
errand  was  as  ill  executed  as  contrived,  and  the  master  of  the 
jyiscavery  was  glad  to  return  with  a  severe  drubbing  from  the  very 
chief  who  had  been  so  maltreated  by  Clerke.  The  crew  were  also 
pelted  with  stones,  and  had  all  their  oars  broken,  and  they  hud  not 
a  single  weapon  in  the  boat,  not  even  a  cutlass,  to  defend  them- 


JOHN  LED  YARD.  151 

selves.  When  Cook  heard  of  this,  he  went  armed  himself  in  per- 
son to  the  guard  on  shore,  took  a  file  of  marines,  and  went  through 
the  whole  town  demanding  restitution,  and  threatening  the  delin- 
quents and  their  abettors  with  the  severest  punishments  ;  but,  not 
being  able  to  effect  any  thing,  he  came  off  just  at  sunset,  highly 
displeased,  and  not  a  little  concerned  at  the  bad  appearance  of 
things.  But  even  this  was  nothing  to  what  followed. 

"  On  the  13th,  at  night,  the  Discovery's  large  cutter,  which  was 
at  her  usual  moorings  at  the  lower  buoy,  was  taken  away.  On 
the  14th,  the  captains  met  to  consult  what  should  be  done  on 
this  alarming  occasion  ;  and  the  issue  of  their  opinions  was,  that 
one  of  the  two  captains  should  land  with  armed  boats  and  a  guard 
of  marines  at  Kiverua,  and  attempt  to  persuade  Teraiobu,  who  was 
then  at  his  house  in  that  town,  to  come  oif  board  upon  a  visit,  and 
that  when  he  was  on  board  he  should  be  kept  prisoner  until  his 
subjects  should  release  him  by  a  restitution  of  the  cutter ;  and  if 
it  was  afterward  thought  proper,  he,  or  some  of  the  family  who 
might  accompany  him,  should  be  kept  as  perpetual  hostages  for 
the  good  behavior  of  the  people  during  the  remaining  part  of  our 
continuance  at  Kearakekua. 

"  This  plan  was  the  more  approved  of  by  Cook,  as  he  had  so 
repeatedly,  on  former  occasions  to  the  southward,  employed  it 
with  success.  Clerke  was  then  in  a  deep  decline  of  his  health, 
and  too  feeble  to  undertake  the  affair,  though  it  naturally  devolved 
upon  him  as  a  point  of  duty  not  well  transferable ;  he  therefore 
begged  Cook  to  oblige  him  so  much  as  to  take  that  part  of  the 
business  of  the  day  upon  himself  in  his  stead.  This  Cook  agreed 
to  do;  but,  previous  to  his  landing,  made  some  additional  arrange- 
ments respecting  the  possible  want  of  things,  though  it  is  certain, 
from  the  appearance  of  the  subsequent  arrangements,  that  he 
guarded  more  against  the  flight  of  Teraiobu,  or  those  he  could 
wish  to  see,  than  from  an  attack,  or  even  much  insult. 

"  The  disposition  of  our  guards  when  the  movement  began  was 
thus :  Cook  in  his  pinnace,  with  six  private  marines,  a  corporal, 
sergeant,  and  two  lieutenants  of  marines,  went  ahead,  followed 
by  the  launch,  with  other  marines  and  seamen,  on  one  quarter, 
and  the  small  cutter  on  the  other,  with  only  the  crew  on  board. 
This  part  of  the  guard  rowed  for  Kearakekua.  Our  large  cutter 
and  two  boats  from  the  Discovery  had  orders  to  proceed  to  the 
mouth  of  the  bay,  form  at  equal  distances  across,  and  prevent  any 


152  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

communication  by  water  from  any  other  part  of  the  island  to  the 
towns  within  the  bay,  or  from  those  without.  Cook  landed  at 
Kiverua  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  with  the  marines  in 
the  pinnace,  and  went  by  a  circuitous  march  to  the  house  of  Te- 
raiobu, in  order  to  evade  the  suspicion  of  any  design.  This  route 
led  through  a  considerable  part  of  the  town,  which  discovered 
everj'  symptom  of  mischief,  though  Cook,  blinded  by  some  fatal 
cause,  could  not  perceive  it,  or,  too  self-confident,  would  not  re- 
gard it. 

"  The  town  was  evacuated  by  the  women  and  children,  who 
had  retired  to  the  circumjacent  hills,  and  appeared  almost  desti- 
tute of  men  ;  but  there  were  at  that  time  two  hundred  chiefs,  and 
more  than  twice  that  number  of  other  men,  detached  and  secreted 
in  different  parts  of  th^houses  nearest  to  Teraiobu,  exclusive  of 
unknown  numbers  without  the  skirts  of  the  town  ;  and  those  that 
were  seen  were  dressed,  many  of  them,  in  black.  When  the  guard 
reached  Teraiobu's  house,  Cook  ordered  the  lieutenant  of  marines 
to  go  in  and  see  if  he  was  at  home,  and  if  he  was,  to  bring  him 
out.  The  lieutenant  went  in,  and  found  the  old  man  sitting  with 
two  or  three  old  women  of  distinction;  and  when  he  gave  Teraiobu 
to  understand  that  Cook  was  without  and  wanted  to  see  him,  he 
discovered  the  greatest  marks  of  uneasiness,  but  arose  and  accom- 
panied the  lieutenant  out,  holding  his  hand.  When  he  came  be- 
fore Cook,  he  squatted  down  upon  his  hams  as  a  mark  of  humil- 
iation, and  Cook  took  him  by  the  hand  from  the  lieutenant,  and 
conversed  with  him. 

"  The  appearance  of  our  parade,  both  by  water  and  on  shore, 
though  conducted  with  the  utmost  silence,  and  with  as  little  osten- 
tation as  possible,  had  alarmed  the  towns  on  both  sides  of  the  bay, 
but  particularly  Kiverua,  where  the  people  were  in  complete  order 
for  an  onset ;  otherwise  it  would  have  been  a  matter  of  surprise 
that,  though  Cook  did  not  see  twenty  men  in  passing  through  the 
town,  yet,  before  he  had  conversed  ten  minutes  with  Teraiobu, 
he  was  surrounded  by  three  or  four  hundred  people,  and  above 
half  of  them  chiefs. 

"  Cook  grew  uneasy  when  he  observed  this,  and  was  the  more 
urgent  in  his  persuasions  with  Teraiobu  to  go  on  board,  and  ac- 
tually persuaded  the  old  man  to  go  at  length,  and  led  him  within 
a  rod  or  two  of  the  shore ;  but  the  just  fears  and  conjectures  of 
the  chiefs  at  last  interposed.  They  held  the  old  man  back,  and 


JOHN  LED  YARD.  153 

one  of  the  chiefs  threatened  Cook  when  he  attempted  to  make 
them  quit  Teraiobu.  Some  of  the  crowd  now  cried  out  that  Cook 
was  going  to  take  their  king  from  them  and  kill  him,  and  there 
was  one  in  particular  that  advanced  toward  Cook  in  an  attitude 
that  alarmed  one  of  the  guard,  who  presented  his  bayonet  and 
opposed  him,  acquainting  Cook,  in  the  mean  time,  of  the  danger 
of  his  situation,  and  that  the  Indians  in  a  few  minutes  would 
attack  him ;  that  he  had  overheard  the  man  whom  he  had  just 
stopped  from  rushing  in  upon  him  say  that  our  boats  which  were 
out  in  the  harbor  had  just  killed  his  brother,  and  he  would  be 
revenged. 

"  Cook  attended  to  what  this  man  said,  and  desired  him  to 
show  him  the  Indian  that  had  dared  to  attempt  a  combat  with 
him,  and,  as  soon  as  he  was  pointed  out,  Cook  fired  at  him  with 
a  blank.  The  Indian,  perceiving  he  received  no  damage  from  the 
fire,  rushed  from  without  the  crowd  a  second  time,  and  threatened 
any  one  that  should  oppose  him.  Cook,  perceiving  this,  fired  a 
ball,  which  entering  the  Indian's  groin,  he  fell,  and  was  drawn 
off  by  the  rest. 

"  Cook,  perceiving  the  people  determined  to  oppose  his  designs, 
and  that  he  should  not  succeed  without  further  bloodshed,  ordered 
the  lieutenant  of  marines,  Mr.  Phillips,  to  withdraw  his  men,  and 
get  them  into  the  boats,  which  were  then  lying  ready  to  receive 
them.  This  was  effected  by  the  sergeant ;  .but,  the  instant  they 
began  to  retreat,  Cook  was  hit  with  a  stone,  and,  perceiving  the 
man  who  threw  it,  shot  him  dead.  The  officer  in  the  boats,  ob- 
serving the  guard  retreat,  and  hearing  this  third  discharge,  or- 
dered the  boats  to  fire.  This  occasioned  the  guard  to  face  about 
and  fire,  and  then  the  attack  became  general. 

"  Cook  and  Mr.  Phillips  were  together  a  few  paces  in  the  rear 
of  the  guard,  and,  perceiving  a  general  fire  without  orders,  quitted 
Teraiobu  and  ran  to  the  shore  to  put  a  stop  to  it ;  but,  not  being 
able  to  make  themselves  heard,  and  being  close  pressed  upon  by 
the  chiefs,  they  joined  the  guard,  who  fired  as  they  retreated. 
Cook,  having  at  length  reached  the  margin  of  the  water,  between 
the  fire  of  the  boats,  waved  with  his  hat  for  them  to  cease  firing 
and  come  in ;  and  while  he  was  doing  this,  a  chief  from  behind 
stabbed  him  with  one  of  our  iron  daggers  just  under  the  shoulder- 
blade,  and  it  passed  quite  through  his  body.  Cook*fell  with  his 
face  in  the  water,  and  immediately  expired.  Mr.  Phillips,  not 

G* 


154  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

being  able  any  longer  to  use  his  fusee,  drew  his  sword,  and,  en- 
gaging the  chief  whom  he  saw  kill  Cook,  soon  dispatched  him. 
His  guard,  in  the  mean  time,  were  all  killed  but  two,  and  they 
had  plunged  into  the  water  and  were  swimming  to  the  boats. 
He  stood  thus  for  some  time  the  butt  of  all  their  force ;  and  be- 
ing as  complete  in  the  use  of  his  sword  as  he  was  accomplished, 
his  noble  achievements  struck  the  barbarians  with  awe ;  but,  be- 
ing wounded,  and  growing  faint  from  loss  of  blood  and  excessive 
action,  he  plunged  into  the  sea  with  his  sword  in  his  hand  and 
swam  to  the  boats,  where,  however,  he  was  scarcely  taken  on 
board  before  somebody  saw  one  of  the  marines  that  had  swum 
from  the  shore  lying  flat  upon  the  bottom.  Phillips,  hearing  this, 
ran  aft,  threw  himself  in  after  him,  and  brought  him  up  with  him 
to  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  both  were  taken  in. 

"The  boats  had  hitherto  kept  up  a  very  hot  fire,  and,  lying  off 
without  reach  of  any  weapon  but  stones,  had  received  no  damage, 
and  being  fully  at  leisure  to  keep  up  an  unremitted  and  uniform 
action,  made  great  havoc  among  the  Indians,  particularly  among 
the  chiefs,  who  stood  foremost  in  the  crowd  and  were  most  ex- 
posed ;  but  whether  it  was  from  their  bravery,  or  ignorance  of  the 
real  cause  that  deprived  so  many  of  them  of  life  that  they  made 
such  a  stand,  may  be  questioned,  since  it  is  certain  that  they  in 
general,  if  not  universally,  understood  heretofore  that  it  was  the 
fire  only  of  our  arms  that  destroyed  them.  This  opinion  seems 
to  be  strengthened  by  the  circumstance  of  the  large,  thick  mats 
they  were  observed  to  wear,  which  were  also  constantly  kept  wet ; 
and  furthermore,  the  Indian  that  Cook  fired  at  with  a  blank  dis- 
covered no  fear  when  he  found  his  mat  unburnt,  saying  in  their 
language,  when  lie  showed  it  to  the  by-standers,  that  no  fire  had 
touched  it.  This  may  be  supposed  to  have  had  at  least  some  in- 
fluence. It  is,  however,  certain,  whether  from  one  or  both  these 
causes,  that  the  numbers  that  fell  made  no  apparent  impression 
on  those  who  survived  ;  they  were  immediately  taken  off,  and  had 
their  places  supplied  in  a  constant  succession.  Lieutenant  Gore, 
who  commanded  as  first  lieutenant  under  Cook  in  the  Resolution, 
which  lay  opposite  the  place  where  this  attack  was  made,  perceiv- 
ing with  his  glass  that  the  guard  on  shore  was  cut  off,  and  that 
Cook  had  fallen,  immediately  passed  a  spring  upon  one  of  the 
cables,  and^Nringing  the  ship's  starboard  guns  to  bear,  fired  two 
round  shot  over  the  boats  into  the  middle  of  the  crowd  ;  and  both 


JOHN  LEDYARD.  155 

the  thunder  of  the  cannon  and  the  effects  of  the  shot  operated  so 
powerfully,  that  it  produced  a  most  precipitate  retreat  from  the 
shore  to  the  town." 

With  as  much  expedition  as  possible,  the  ships  retreated  from 
a  neighborhood  fraught  with  so  much  calamity ;  proceeded  to 
the  polar  regions  in  search  of  the  northwest  passage,  touched 
ivt  Kamtschatka,  passed  through  Behring's  Straits,  and  visited 
many  islands  in  a  high  latitude,  but  with  no  success.  The  ex- 
pedition then  returned  home  by  way  of  China  and  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope,  reaching  England  after  an  absence  of  four  years  and 
three  months. 

For  two  years  after  this  we  find  no  mention  of  Ledyard,  except 
that  he  remained  in  the  navy,  but  refused  to  serve  in  any  of  the 
expeditions  which  were  fitted  out  against  his  native  country. 
The  desire  of  returning,  however,  induced  him  in  1782  to  obtain 
a  transfer  to  a  British  man-of-war  bound  for  an  American  station. 
Fortunately,  the  destination  of  the  ship  was  Huntingdon  Bay, 
Long  Island  Sound.  Immediately  on  Bis  arrival  he  obtained  leave 
of  absence  to  visit  his  mother,  who  still  resided  at  Southold,  where 
she  kept  a  boarding-house,  chiefly  supported  by  British  officers — 
New  York  at  that  time  being  in  possession  of  the  British.  He 
had  so  much  changed  during  his  eight  years'  absence  that  the 
poor  old  lady  did  not  know  him.  It  is  said  that  she  passed  and 
repassed  him  many  times,  as  if  uncertain  whether  she  had  seen 
him  before.  At  length  she  put  on  her  spectacles,  and,  apologizing 
for  the  liberty  she  took  in  scrutinizing  a  stranger  so  closely,  said 
that  he  resembled  a  son  of  hers  who  had  been  long  absent,  and 
concerning  whose  fate  nothing  was  kiiown.  The  scene  that  fol- 
lowed must  have  been  affecting,  for  Ledyard,  although  a  rover, 
was  dearly  attached  to  his  mother. 

Ledyard's  leave  of  absence  was  for  seven  days,  but,  before  the 
expiration  of  that  brief  term,  he  had  fully  made  up  his  mind  to 
return  no  more  to  the  British  service.  "  I  made  my  escape  from 
the  British  at  Huntingdon  Bay,"  he  wrote.  "  I  am  now  at  Mr. 
Seymour's,  and  as  happy  as  need  be.  I  have  a  little  cash,  two 
coats,  three  waistcoats,  six  pair  of  stockings,  and  half  a  dozen 
ruffled  shirts.  I  am  a  violent  Whig  and  a  violent  Tory.  Many 
are  my  acquaintances.  I  eat  and  drink  when  I  am  asked,  and 
visit  when  I  am  invited  ;  in  short,  I  generally  do  as  I  am  bid. 
All  I  want  of  my  friends  is  friendship ;  possessed  of  that,  I  am 


156  SKLF  MADE  MKX. 

happy."    During  this  period  he  wrote  his  Journal  of  Cook's  Voy- 
age, from  which  our  extracts  have  been  taken. 

Early  in  the  following  spring  he  began  to  agitate  a  subject  on 
which  his  heart  was  fully  set — namely,  a  trading  voyage  to  the 
•Northwest  Coast  of  the  Pacific — a  traffic  entirely  unknown  in 
those  days,  and  which,  as  subsequent  events  have  proved,  is  em- 
inently profitable.  In  turn  he  applied  to  all  the  merchants  and 
ship-owners  of  New  York,  Boston,  and  Philadelphia,  sometimes 
with  apparent  success.  In  this  heart-chilling  way  he  spent  two 
seasons,  and  then,  satisfied  that  nothing  could  be  done  in  Amer- 
ica, he  started  once  more  for  Europe.  He  took  with  him  some 
excellent  letters  of  introduction,  and,  on  presenting  them  to  the 
merchants  of  L'Orient,  received  immediate  encouragement.  •  He 
was  requested  to  remain  until  the  approaching  summer,  and  em- 
ploy himself,  in  the  mean  time,  in  making  the  necessary  prepara- 
tion for  the  cruise.  When  the  spring  came  they  procured  him  a 
ship,  and  every  thing  promised  an  immediate  consummation  of 
his  wishes ;  but,  for  some  reason  which  has  never  been  explained, 
all  these  preparations  were  in  vain.  The  expedition  was  aban- 
doned, and  Ledyard  repaired  to  Paris  to  look  out  for  men  of  more 
energy  and  speculation.  In  the  latter  city  he  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Jefferson,  who  was  the  minister  from  the  United  States, 
and  also  of  Paul  Jones.  With  each  of  these  he  discussed  the 
project  he  had  in  view,  and  received  much  encouragement,  espe- 
cially from  the  latter.  He  submitted  the  enterprise,  also,  to  the 
mercantile  community  of  Paris,  and  some  progress  was  made  in 
the  organization  of  a  public  company.  Several  months  were  pass- 
ed in  these  efforts,  which  were  destined,  after  all,  to  prove  unavail- 
ing. From  inability,  unwillingness,  or  distrust,  every  one  made 
some  kind  of  excuse  when  the  moment  arrived  for  action.  At 
length  Ledyard  crossed  the  Channel  to  the  English  metropolis. 
While  in  France  he  had  been  fortunate  enough  to  make  the  ac- 
quaintance of  an  eccentric  Englishman,  Sir  James  Hall  by  name, 
and  it  was  at  his  invitation  that  he  now  repaired  to  London. 
Much  to  his  astonishment,  he  there  found  an  English  ship  in  com- 
plete readiness  to  sail  for  the  Pacific  Ocean.  Sir  James  Hall  in- 
troduced him  to  the  owners,  who  immediately  offered  him  a  free 
passage  in  the  vessel,  with  the  promise  that  he  should  be  set  on 
shore  at  any  point  he  chose  in  the  Pacific  Ocean — their  recom- 
pense being  the  advantage  of  having  a  man  so  experienced  on 


JOHN.  LED  YARD.  157 

board  the  vessel.  "  Sir  James  Hall,"  says  Mr.  Ledyard,  "  pre- 
sented me  with  twenty  pounds  pro  bono  publico.  I  bought  two 
great  dogs,  an  Indian  pipe,  and  a  hatchet.  My  want  of  time,  as 
well  as  of  money,  will  prevent  my  going  any  otherwise  than  in- 
differently equipped  for  such  an  enterprise."  What  a  queer  outfit 
for  the  Pacific  Ocean — two  great  dogs,  an  Indian  pipe,  and-  a 
hatchet !  His  intention  was  now  to  proceed  to  Nootka  Sound, 
and  then  strike  across  the  American  continent  to  the  Atlantic 
States,  thus  traversing  the  land  from  one  side  to  the  other.  The 
propitious  day  arrived.  Ledyard  embarked,  and  the  vessel  float- 
ed down  the  Thames  on  her  long  voyage.  There  did  not  seem 
to  be  the  faintest  prospect  of  a  fresh  disappointment,  when  sud- 
denly a  terrific  one  loomed  up  in  the  distance.  An  order  from 
government  arrested  the  progress  of  the  vessel ;  she  was  seized  by 
the  custom-house,  and  eventually  exchequered.  Thus  the  expe- 
dition was  at  once  permanently  crushed.  One  would  suppose 
that  after  so  many  disappointments,  so  many  evidences  that  Dame 
Fortune  was  against  him,  Ledyard  would  abandon  his  projects, 
and  sink  into  a  helpless  condition  of  wretchedness  and  despair. 
Not  at  all.  He  was  now  so  used  to  these  disappointments  that 
they  had  even  ceased  to  surprise  him.  The  only  effect  this  last 
blow  had  was  to  lead  him  to  trust  for  the  future  entirely  to 
himself.  In  a  letter  to  his  brother  he  says,  "  I  am  going  in 
a  few  days  to  make  the  tour  of  the  globe,  from  London  east,  on 
foot."  There  was  no  possibility  of  disappointment  in  this  ar- 
rangement. Ledyard's  project  interested  the  scientific  world  of 
London,  who  saw  in  his  contemplated  overland  journey  the  op- 
portunity, of  obtaining  valuable  geographical  information  concern- 
ing regions  comparatively  unknown.  They  were  willing  to  as- 
sist him  too,  and  for  this  purpose  a  subscription  was  put  on  foot, 
which,  whatever  its  amount,  was  sufficient  to  start  him  on  his 
journey. 

On  the  1st  of  January,  1789,  he  arrived  at  Copenhagen,  from 
thence  crossed  over  into  Sweden,  and  reached  Stockholm  by  the 
end  of  the  month.  His  destination  was  St.  Petersburg,  for  which 
purpose  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  cross  the  Gulf  of  Both- 
nia. In  the  winter  this  is  usually  effected  in  sledges,  but  occa- 
sionally it  happens  that  the  water  is  not  sufficiently  frozen  for 
this  kind  of  passage,  although  too  thickly  covered  with  floating 
ice  to  admit  of  vessels  crossing  in  safety.  Under  these  perplex- 


158  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ing  circumstances  it  became  necessary  to  travel  round  the  Gulf, 
a  distance  of  twelve  hundred  miles,  through  Lapland  and  the 
Arctic  Circle,  in  order  to  reach  the  opposite  point,  which,  under 
favorable  circumstances,  is  only  fifty  miles  distant.  Such  was 
the  state  of  things  when  Ledyard  arrived  at  the  usual  place  of 
crossing.  The  only  alternative  was  to  stay  in  Stockholm  till 
the  spring  should  open,  or  to  go  around  thfe  Gulf  into  Lapland, 
and  so  reach  St.  Petersburg.  With  very  little  deliberation,  he  ar- 
rived at  the  latter  determination,  and  at  oftce  started  on  foot  to 
perform  the  perilous  journey.  Unfortunately,  we  have  no  record 
of  this  remarkable  act  of  pedestrianism,  or  of  the  innumerable  ad- 
ventures that  must  have  attended  it.  On  the  20th  of  March 
Ledyard  reached  Petersburg — that  is,  within  seven  weeks  of  the 
time  of  leaving  Stockholm — making  the  average  distance  traveled 
about  two  hundred  miles  per  week.  "I  can  not  tell  you,"  he 
says,  in  one  of  his  letters,  "by  what  means  I  came  to  Petersburg, 
and  hardly  know  by  what  means  I  shall  quit  it  in  the  further 
prosecution  of  my  tour  round  the  world  by  land.  If  I  have  any 
merit  in  the  affair,  it  is  perseverance,  for  most  severely  have  I 
been  buffeted ;  and  yet  still  am  even  more  obstinate  than  before ; 
and  Fate,  as  obstinate,  continues  her  assaults.  How  the  matter 
will  terminate  I  know  not.  The  most  probable  conjecture  is  that 
I  shall  succeed,  and  be  buffeted  around  the  world  as  I  have  hith- 
erto been  from  England  through  Denmark,  through  Sweden,  Swe- 
dish Lapland,  Swedish  Finland,  and  the  most  unfrequented  parts 
of  Russian  Finland,  to  this  aurora  borealis  of  a  city." 

After  remaining  a  short  time  in  St.  Petersburg,  Ledyard  start- 
ed once  more,  in  company  with  a  Scotch  physician,  who  was  trav- 
eling on  state  business,  and  who  accompanied  our  hero  for  a  dis- 
tance of  upward  of  three  thousand  miles.  It  is  probable  that  he  de- 
frayed his  expenses  too,  for  Ledyard's  funds  were  wretchedly  low, 
consisting,  in  fact,  of  the  remains  of  twenty  pounds  which  he  had 
raised  in  St.  Petersburg.  How  he  succeeded  in  getting  from  place 
to  place,  mixing  wherever  he  went  in  the  best  society,  is  indeed  al- 
ways a  mystery.  He  was,  unquestionably,  a  presentable,  courteous, 
and  charming  man,  one  of  those  whose  blandness  and  decision  of 
character  pass  them  into  the  ranks  of  the  wealthy  and  educated  as 
a  matter  of  course.  At  Barnaoul,  Ledyard  parted  company  with 
Dr.  Brown.  "  How  I  have  come  thus  far,"  he  writes  to  his  fa- 
vorite correspondent,  Mr.  Jefferson,  "  and  how  I  am  to  go  still 


JOHN  LEDYARD.  159 

farther,  is  an  enigma  that  I  must  disclose  to  you  on  some  happier 
occasion.  I  shall  never  be  able,  without  seeing  you  in  person,  and 
perhaps  not  then,  to  tell  you  how  universally  and  circumstantially 
the  Tartars  resemble  the  aborigines  of  America.  They  are  the 
same  people,  the  most  ancient  and  the  most  numerous  of  any 
other,  and,  had  not  a  small  sea  divided  them,  they  would  all  have 
been  still  known  by  the  same  name.  The  cloak  of  civilization 
sits  as  ill  upon  them  as  upon  our  American  Tartars.  They  have 
been  a  long  time  Tartars,  and  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  they 
will  be  any  other  kind  of  people." 

From  Barnaoul  to  Irkutsk  he  traveled  post,  a  distance  of  1155 
miles  ;  from  the  latter  place  to  Yakutsk,  a  distance  of  1500  miles, 
in  a  vessel  down  the  River  Lena,  traveling  at  the  rate  of  eighty 
or  a  hundred  miles  per  day.  On  the  18th  of  September  he  ar- 
rived at  Yakutsk  in  safety.  Lodgings  were  provided  for  him  by 
order  of  the  commandant,  but, 'to  his  dismay,  he  was  informed 
that  the  season  was  too  far  advanced  to  admit  of  his  going  far- 
ther north  until  the  spring.  "  What,  alas  !  shall  I  do  ?"  he  ex- 
claims, piteously,  in  his  journal,  "  for  I  am  miserably  prepared  for 
this  unlooked-for  delay.  By  remaining  here  through  the  winter 
I  can  not  expect  to  resume  my  march  until  May,  which  will  be 
eight  months.  My  funds  !  I  have  but  two  long  frozen  stages 
more,  and  I  shall  be  beyond  the  want  or  aid  of  money,  until, 
emerging  from  the  deep  deserts,  I  gain  the  American  Atlantic 
States  ;  and  then,  thy  glowing  climates,  Africa,  explored,  I  will 
lay  me  down,  and  claim  my  little  portion  of  the  globe  I  have 
viewed.  May  it  not  be  before "?  How  many  of  the  noble  mind- 
ed have  been  subsidiary  to  me  or  to  my  enterprises !  yet  that 
meagre  demon,  Poverty,  has  traveled  with  me  hand  in  hand  over 
half  the  globe, -and  witnessed  what — the  tale  I  will  not  unfold. 
This  is  the  third  time  I  have  been  overtaken  and  ar- 
rested by  winter,  and  both  the  others,  by  giving  time  for  my  evil 
genius  to  rally  his  hosts  about  me,  have  defeated  the  enterprise. 
Fortune,  thou  hast  humbled  me  at  last,  for  I  am  this  moment  the 
slave  of  cowardly  solicitude,  lest  in  the  heart  of  this  dread  winter 
there  lurk  the  seeds  of  disappointment  to  my  ardent  desire  of 
gaining  the  opposite  continent.  But  I  submit." 

The  commandant,  who  seems  to  have  been  a  very  good  fellow, 
invited  Ledyard  to  the  hospitalities  of  his  house,  but,  unfortunately,- 
Ledyard  was  badly  off  for  clothes,  and  had  but  thirty  shillings  in 


100  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

his  pocket  to  get  a  fresh  stock  with.  Even  in  Siberia,  where  hos- 
pitality is  the  fashion,  this  state  of  things  was  disheartening.  How- 
ever, he  seems  to  have  cheered  up  and  made  the  best  of  it.  Dur- 
ing his  forced  stay  he  employed  his  time  profitably  in  making  in- 
quiries concerning  the  country,  and  especially  concerning  the  vari- 
ous Tartar  tribes  which  he  had  met  in  Russia  and  Siberia.  The 
results  of  his  investigations  were  summed  up  in  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Jefferson,  from  which  we  extract.  "  I  am  certain  that  all  the 
people  you  call  red  people  on  the  continent  of  America,  and  on 
the  continents  of  Europe  and  Asia,  as  far  south  as  the  southern 
parts  of  China,  are  all  one  people,  by  whatever  names  distinguish- 
ed, and  that  the  best  general  name  would  be  Tartar.  I  suspect 
that  all  red  people  are  of  the  same  family.  I  am  satisfied  that 
America  was  peopled  from  Asia;  and  some,  if  not  all,  its  animals 
from  thence.  I  am  satisfied  that  the  great  general  analogy  in  the 
customs  of  men  can  only  be  accounted  for  by  supposing  them  all 
to  compose  one  family ;  and,  by  excluding  the  idea  and  uniting 
customs,  traditions,  and  history,  I  am  satisfied  that  this  common 
origin  was  such,  or  nearly,  as  related  by  Moses,  and  commonly  be- 
lieved among  the  nations  of  the  earth.  There  is  also  a  transpo- 
sition of  things  on  the  globe  that  must  have  been  produced  by 
some  cause  equal  to  the  effect,  which  is  vast  and  curious.  Whether 
I  repose  on  arguments  drawn  from  facts  observed  by  myself,  or 
send  imagination  forth  to  find  a  cause,  they  both  declare  to  me  a 
general  deluge."  His  journal,  written  here,  contains  a  great  deal 
of  observant  critical  matter,  jotted  down  hastily,  with  no  view  to 
direct  publication.  We  have  but  room  for  the  following  eulogy 
on  woman,  and  then  must  hurry  on :  "I  have  observed  among 
all  nations  that  the  women  ornament  themselves  more  than  the 
men ;  that,  wherever  found,  they  are  the  same  kind,  civil,  obliging, 
humane,  tender  beings  ;  that  they  are  ever  inclined  to  be  gay  and 
cheerful,  timorous  and  modest.  They  do  not  hesitate,  like  man, 
to  perform  a  hospitable  or  generous  action ;  not  haughty,  nor  ar- 
rogant, nor  supercilious,  but  full  of  courtesy  and  fond  of  society  ; 
industrious,  economical,  ingenuous ;  more  liable  in  general  to  err 
than  man,  but  in  general,  also,  more  virtuous,  and  performing  more 
good  actions  than  he.  I  never  addressed  myself  in  the  language 
of  decency  and  friendship  to  a  woman,  whether  civilized  or  sav- 
•  age,  without  receiving  a  decent  and  friendly  answer.  With  man 
it  has  often  been  otherwise.  In  wandering  over  the  barren  plains 


JOHN  LEDYARD.  161 

of  inhospitable  Denmark,  through  honest  Sweden,  frozen  Lapland, 
rude  and  churlish  Finland,  unprincipled  Russia,  and  the  wide- 
spread regions  of  the  wandering  Tartar,  if  hungry,  dry,  cold,  wet, 
or  sick,  woman  has  ever  been  friendly  to  me,  and  uniformly  so ; 
and  to  add  to  this  virtue,  so  worthy  of  the  appellation  of  benevo- 
lence, these  actions  have  been  performed  in  so  free  and  so  kind  a 
manner,  that  if  I  was  dry,  I  drank  the  sweet  draught,  and  if  hun- 
gry, ate  the  coarse  morsel  with  a  double  relish." 

The  weariness  of  his  winter  captivity  in  Yakutsk  was  thus  re- 
lieved by  the  exercises  of  composition,  hasty  and  imperfect  to  be 
sure,  but  exciting  to  an  imagination  alive  with  the  freshness  of 
the  things  described.  An  unexpected  surprise  was  in  store  for 
him  while  in  the  midst  of  these  employments.  He  had  not  been 
quite  two  months  in  his  winter  quarters  when  the  town  was 
aroused  from  its  usual  lethargy  by  the  arrival  of  Captain  Billings, 
who  was  employed  by  the  Empress  of  Russia  pn  a  mission  for 
exploring  the  northeastern  regions  of  her  territory,  and  who  came 
now  from  his  expedition  to  superintend  the  construction  of  cer- 
tain boats  necessary  for  farther  explorations.  Billings  was  an  old 
acquaintance  of  Ledyard's ;  they  had  served  together  on  Cook's 
voyage,  and  were  mutually  astonished  to  meet  thus  unexpectedly 
in  the  heart  of  Siberia.  He  was  now  on  his  way  to  Irkutsk,  and, 
iieeding  a  companion,  invited  Ledyard  to  accompany  him  back  to 
that  town.  The  latter  was  of  course  glad  of  any  opportunity  of 
killing  time,  and  at  once  cheerfully  assented,  intending  to  return 
in  the  spring  and  prosecute  his  journey  northward.  They  start- 
ed on  the  29th  of  December,  and  traveled  in  sledges  up  the  River 
Lena,  on  the  ice,  with  such  rapidity  that  in  seventeen  days  they 
covered  the  distance,  fifteen  hundred  miles. 

Having  leisure  and  companions,  Ledyard  enjoyed  himself  in 
society,  and  made  the  most  of  the  long,  dreary  evenings,  now  that 
he  could  do  so.  The  following  extract  from  Sauer's  "Account 
of  a  Geographical  and  Astronomical  Expedition  to  the  Northern 
parts  of  Russia"  will  explain  how  this  period  of  repose  was 
brought  to  a  sudden  close  :  "In  the  evening  of  the  24th  of  Feb- 
ruary," says  Sauer,  "  while  I  .was  playing  at  cards  with  the  brig- 
adier and  some  company  of  his,  a  secretary  h^onging  to  one  of 
the  courts  of  justice  came  in,  and  told  us,  with  great  concern,  that 
the  governor  general  had  received  positive  orders  from  the  em- 
press immediately  to  send  one  of  the  expedition,  an  Englishman, 


162  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

under  guard,  to  the  private  inquisition  at  Moscow,  but  that  he 
did  not  know  the  name  of  the  person,  and  that  Captain  Billings 
was  with  a  private  party  at  the  governor  general's.  Now,  as 
Ledyard  and  I  were  the  only  Englishmen  here,  I  could  not  help 
smiling  at  the  news,  when  two  hussars  came  into  the  room,  and 
told  me  that  the  commandant  wished  to  speak  to  me  immediate- 
ly. The  consternation  into  which  the  visitors  were  thrown  is 
not  to  be  described.  I  assured  them  that  it  must  be  a  mistake, 
and  went  with  the  guards  to  the  commandant. 

"  There  I  found  Mr.  Ledyard  under  arrest.  He  told  me  that 
he  had  sent  to  Captain  Billings,  but  he  would  not  come  to  him. 
He  then  began  to  explain  his  situation,  and  said  he  was  taken  up 
as  a  French  spy,  whereas  Captain  Billings  could  prove  the  con- 
trary, but  he  supposed  that  he  knew  nothing  of  the  matter,  and 
requested  that  I  would  inform  him.  I  did  so,  but  the  captain  as- 
sured me  that  it  was  an  absolute  order  from  the  empress,  and  that 
he  could  not  help  him.  He,  however,  sent  him  a  few  rubles,  and 
gave  him  a  pelisse  ;  and  I  procured  him  his  linen  quite  wet  from 
the  wash-tub.  Ledyard  took  a  friendly  leave  of  me,  desired  his 
remembrance  to  his  friends,  and,  with  astonishing  composure,  leap- 
ed into  the  kibitka,  and  drove  off,- with  two  guards,  one  on  each 
side.  I  wished  to  travel  with  him  a  little  way,  but  was  not  per- 
mitted. I  therefore  returned  to  my  company,  and  explained  the 
matter  to  them." 

In  this  cruel  manner  were  all  his  schemes  once  more  frustrated. 
He  was  hurried  to  Moscow,  and  then,  without  any  investigation 
of  the  ridiculous  charge  of  being  a  French  spy,  ordered  to  quit 
the  Russian  dominions,  and  informed  that  if  he  returned  he  would 
assuredly  be  hanged.  The  actual  cause  of  his  arrest  appears  to 
be  shrouded  in  much  mystery.  It  is  probable,  however,  that  it 
arose  from  the  jealous  unwillingness  of  Russia  to  have  her  new 
possessions  on  the  western  coast  of  America  examined  by  a  for- 
eigner, especially  when  she  had  an  expedition  on  the  spot  for  the 
purpose  of  examining  them  herself  for  her  own  private  advantage. 

We  hear  little  of  Ledyard  after  this  severe  rebuff  until  we  find 
him  once  more  in  London,  after  an  absence  of  one  year  and  five 
months.  Here  li§  found  his  old  friend,  Sir  Joseph  Banks,  ready 
to  receive  him  with  open  arms.  All  the  incidents  of  his  eventful 
journey  were  listened  to  with  eagerness,  and  Ledyard  received 
the  sympathy  of  one  man  of  science  for  another.  Sir  Joseph 


JOHN  LED  YARD.  163 

questioned  him  about  his  future  movements,  and  recommended  to 
his  attention  an  expedition  to  Central  Africa,  which  the  African 
Association  were  anxious  to  have  undertaken.  Nothing  could 
have  given  Ledyard  greater  satisfaction  than  this  project.  It 
was  with  a  light  and  elastic  step  that  he  4eft  Sir  Joseph,  and  made 
his  way  to  the  rooms  of  the  association.  The  secretary  was  struck 
with  the  manliness  of  his  person,  the  breadth  of  his  chest,  the 
openness  of  his  countenance,  and  the  inquietude  of  his  eye.  He 
spread  the  map  of  Africa  before  him,  and,  tracing  a  line  from 
Cairo  to  Sennaar,  and  from  thence  westward  in  the  latitude  and 
supposed  direction  of  the  Niger,  told  him  that  was  the  route  by 
which  the  association  were  anxious  that  Africa  might,  if  possible, 
be  explored.  Ledyard  replied  that  he  should  consider  himself 
singularly  fortunate  to  be  trusted  with  the  venture.  The  secre- 
tary then  asked  him  when  he  would  be  ready  to  set  out.  Led- 
yard.replied,  "To-morrow  morning."  The  association  immedi- 
ately closed  with  a  man  who  displayed  such  fearless  promptitude 
and  eagerness,  but  they  were,  of  course,  unable  to  dispatch  him 
on  the  following  morning.  On  the  30th  of  June  he  left  London, 
and  proceeded  through  France  to  the  Mediterranean,  thence  to 
Alexandria,  where  he  passed  ten  days,  and  then  up  the  Nile  to 
Cairo,  where  he  arrived  on  the  19th  of  August.  Having  letters 
of  introduction  to  the  British  consul,  he  found  no  difficulty  in 
procuring  such  information  as  he  needed  for  the  prosecution  of 
his  journey.  His  intention  was  to  join  a  caravan  bound  to  the 
%iterior,  and  continue  with  it  to  the  end  of  its  route.  After  that 
he  would  have  to  be  guided  entirely  by  circumstances.  'He  pass- 
ed three  months  in  Cairo  studying  the  habits  of  the  people  he  was 
about  to  associate  with,  and  in  otherwise  preparing  himself. 

His  zeal  in  these  respects  was  attended  with  the  most  melan- 
choly end.  Exposure  to  the  action  of  the  sun  produced  a  bilious 
complaint,  and  he  treated  it,  with  no  apprehensions  of  its  result, 
in  the  usual  way,  with  vitriolic  acid.  The  quantity  he  took  was 
excessive,  and  produced  burning  pains,  that  threatened  to  be  fatal 
unless  immediate  relief  could  be  procured.  A  powerful  dose  of 
tartar  emetic  was  administered,  but  in  vain.  The  principal  doc- 
tors of  Cairo  were  called  in,  but  their  advice  was  impracticable 
and  too  late.  In  the  thirty-eighth  year  of  his  age,  he  was  doomed 
to  end  his  strange  career  in  this  unfortunate  and  miserable  way. 
The  precise  day  of  his  death  is  not  known,  but  it  was  toward  the 


104  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

end  of  November,  1788.  He  was  decently  interred,  and  his  re- 
mains were  followed  to  the  grave  by  many  European  residents  in 
the  capital  of  Egypt. 

It'  is  impossible  to  read  the  history  of  John  Ledyard  without 
experiencing  the  keenest  sensation  of  regret  that  a  career  so  en- 
ergetic and  promising  was  thus  abruptly  terminated.  A  moi-e 
unfortunate  man  it  would  be  hard  to  find  in  the  world.  His  life 
was  one  constant  struggle  against  poverty,  but  the  cheerfulness  of 
his  disposition  made  him  underrate  the  actual  hardships  beneath 
which  he  was  constantly  groaning.  He  was  so  accustomed  to 
disappointments  that  they  ceased  to  excite  his  indignation.  With 
a  steadiness  of  purpose  which  can  not  be  too  largely  imitated,  he 
entered  upon  the  execution  of  his  plans,  totally  indifferent  to  the 
obstacles  which  surrounded  him.  T?he  one  great  object  of  his  life 
he  may  be  said  to  have  accomplished,  namely,  to  travel  through 
the  Russian  possessions  to  the  coast  of  America.  A  desire  near- 
ly as  strong  as  this  was  to  penetrate  into  the  central  parts  of  Af- 
rica. Under  circumstances  of  peculiar  good  luck  he  started  on 
this  enterprise.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  backed  by 
liberal  patrons,  and  discomfort  arising  from  scanty  means  seemed 
impossible.  With  natural  gayety  and  ardor  he  started  for  the 
burning  land  of  the  African,  when  death,  as  if  dissatisfied  with 
his  triumph,  smote  him,  and  he  fell  in  the  pride  of  manhood  and 
strength.  4  ,' 

The  following  description  of  Mr.  Ledyard  is  from  the  pen  of 
Mr.  Beaufoy,  Secretary  of  the  African  Society.  "  To  those  w^fr 
have  never  seen  Mr.  Ledyard,  it  may  not,  perhaps,  be  uninterest- 
ing to  know  that  his  person,  though  scarcely  exceeding  the  middle 
size,  was  remarkably  expressive  of  activity  and  strength ;  and  that 
his  manners,  though  unpolished,  were  neither  uncivil  nor  unpleas- 
ing.  Little  attentive  to  difference  of  rank,  he  seemed  to  consider 
all  men  as  his  equals,  and  as  such  he  respected  them.  His  genius, 
though  uncultivated  and  irregular,  was  original  and  comprehen- 
sive. Ardent  in  his  wishes,  yet  calm  in  his  deliberations ;  daring 
in  his  purposes,  but  guarded  in  his  measures  ;  impatient  of  con- 
trol, yet  capable  of  strong  endurance ;  adventurous  beyond  the 
conception  of  ordinary,  men,  yet  wary  and  considerate,  and  atten- 
tive to  all  precautions,  he  appeared  to  be  formed  by  nature  for 
achievements  of  hardihood  and  peril." 


STEPHEN    GIRAED. 

CONCERNING  the  early  history  of  this  eccentric  and  remarkable 
man  we  know  but  little,  except  that  he  was  a  native  of  France, 
und  born  in  the  environs  of  Bordeaux,  on  the  24th  of  May,  1750. 
His  parents  were  in  very  humble  circumstances,  and  Girard  does 
not  appear  to  have  been  indebted  to  them  for  any  advantage  be- 
yond the  essential  one  of  birth.  It  is  probable  that  his  early  years 
were  passed  in  much  misery,  for  he  never  desired  to  return  to  the 
scene  of  them.  Gratitude,  which  is  certainly  a  feature  in  the 
character  of  most  self-made  men,  did  not  infuse  warmth  into 
Girard's  heart,  and  even  his  parents  were  not  remembered  with 
the  usual  prompt  affection  of  nature.  Of  education  he  had  but 
little,,  being  barely  able  to  read  his  own  language.  The  knowledge 
of  this  deficiency  weighed  heavily  on  his  mind  through  life,  and 
was  undoubtedly  one  cause  of  that  munificence  which  has  given 
lasting  interest  to  his  name. 

He  is  supposed  to  have  left  France  at  the  early  age  of  ten  or 
twelve  years,  in  the  capacity  of  a  cabin-boy,  bound  for  the  West 
Indies.  Many  causes  have  been  assigned  for  this  step ;  among 


166  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

others,  soreness  at  being  ridiculed  for  a  blind  eye,  and  ill-treatment 
from  his  parents.  The  most  probable  reason  is,  that  he  left  France 
because  he  thought  he  could  do  better  elsewhere.  He  did  not  re- 
main in  the  West  Indies  for  any  length  of  time,  but  proceeded  in 
Ids  vessel  to  New  York,  from  which  port  he  afterward  sailed  as 
an  apprentice.  When  the  term  of  his  indenture  had  expired,  he 
abandoned  the  sea  as  a  profession,  and  embarked  his  small  sav- 
ings in  little  semi-mercantile,  semi-nautical  ventures.  The  sound 
judgment  he  displayed  in  these  matters  was  not  without  its  result. 
Every  day  he  made  an  addition  to  his  capital,  until  finally  it  had 
swollen  to  proportions  ample  enough  to  purchase  an  interest  in  a 
small  vessel  which  plied  between  New  York  and  New  Orleans, 
of  which  he  took  command. 

In  1769  he  removed  to  Philadelphia,  and  in  the  following  year 
married  Miss  Polly  Lum,  a  young  lady  remarkable  for  her  beauty. 
It  is  said  that  Girard  "  fell  in  love"  with  Miss  Lum  under  very 
peculiar,  if  not  romantic  circumstances.  The  fascinating  creature 
was  a  servant  in  the  family  of  Colonel  Walter  Shee,  and  Girard's 
first  interview  was  in  the  open  street,  where  he  beheld  the  damsel, 
destitute  of  shoes  and  stockings,  and  operating  on  a  pump.  She 
was  a  beautiful  brunette  of  sixteen,  with  a  wide  reputation  for 
modesty  and  charms — a  replication  which  was  fully  sustained  by 
her  subsequent  but  short  elevation  in  society.  The  match  was 
an  unfortunate  one,  and  productive  of  much  wretchedness  to  both 
parties.  After  his  marriage  he  rented  a  small  house  in  Water 
Street,  and  continued  his  business  in  the  mercantile  and  seafaring 
way.  In  1771  he  entered  into  partnership  with  Mr.  Hazelhurst, 
of  Philadelphia,  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  on  trade  with  the 
island  of  St.  Domingo.  Two  brigs  were  purchased,  and  of  one 
of  these  Girard  took  the  command.  On  the  passage  both  were 
captured  and  sent  to  Jamaica,  thereby  breaking  up  the  adventure, 
dissolving  the  partnership,  and  sadly  dissappointing  the  owners. 
Much  censure  was  thrown  upon  Girard  for  not  defending  his  ves- 
sel, as  it  had  been  expressly  furnished  with  an  armament  to  make 
resistance  if  attacked.  It  can  not  now  be  ascertained,  and,  indeed, 
is  no  longer  interesting,  whether  this  censure  be  just  or  not.  It- 
may  be  remarked,  however,  that  Girard  was  not  the  kind  of  man 
to  lose  his  property  cheerfully.  If  he  had  seen  a  way  of  preserv- 
ing it,  we  may  safely  conclude  that  he  would  have  done  so.  From 
1772  to  1776  there  is  no  distinct  trace  of  his  movements.  He 


STEPHEN  GIRARD.  167 

followed  the  profession  of  sea-captain,  and  voyaged  to  those  places 
where  the  most  money  could  be  made  ;  but  the  extreme  danger  of 
maritime  property,  owing  to  the  incessant  watchfulness  of  British 
cruisers,  induced  him  to  seek  his  fortunes  in  the  store  rather  than 
on  the  deep.  Consequently,  he  opened  a  small  grocery  in  Water 
Street,  to  which  he  attached  a  bottling  establishment  for  claret 
and  cider.  Here  he  contrived  to  drive  a  profitable  trade  until  the 
approach  of  the  British  army  in  1777,  when,  with  five  hundred 
dollars  which  he  had  saved,  he  purchased  a  small  farm  at  Mount 
Holly,  and  removed  his  store  and  business,  so  as  to  be  out  of 
harm's  way.  Here  he  continued  his  bottling  business,  and  by 
supplying  the  American  army,  which  was  in  the  neighborhood, 
managed  to  turn  an  honest  penny.  In  1779  he  returned  to  Phila- 
delphia, and  we  find  him  occupying  a  range  of  frame  stores  on  the 
east  side  of  Water  Street.  A  gentleman  who  at  this  period  saw 
him  nearly  every  day  describes  him  as  a  plain  and  simply-attired 
man — so  much  so  that  even  then  he  went  by  the  general  appel- 
lation of  Old  Girard,  and  was  an  object  of  curiosity  in  his  junk- 
shop  as  much  as  any  other  article  there.  He  made  a  few  mari- 
time adventures  to  the  south  with  moderate  success,  but  the  de- 
pressed state  of  the  country  was  unfavorable  to  the  immediate  ac- 
cumulation of  wealth.  The  St.  Domingo  trade,  however,  proved 
highly  remunerative,  and  enabled  him,  in  1782,  to  brave  the  dull- 
ness of  the  times,  and  secure  upon  lease  a  range  of  frame  and  brick 
stores  and  dwellings.  The  terms  were  extremely  moderate,  the 
trade  and  commerce  of  the  city  being  then  at  its  lowest  ebb. 
Girard,  with  the  penetration  of  a  man  destined  to  become  a  mil- 
lionaire, knew  that  a  reaction  must  soon  take  place,  and  that  these 
buildings  would  then  be  of  inestimable  value.  His  lease  was  for 
ten  years,  and  contained  a  proviso  that  if,  at  the  expiration  of  that 
period,  Girard  was  willing  to  continue  the  occupancy,  it  might  be 
renewed  for  ten  years  more.  From  the  rent  of  these  stores  and 
dwellings  Girard  realized  enormous  profits.  On  the  day  of  the 
expiration  of  the  term  of  his  first  lease,  he  waited  on  Mr.  Stiles, 
Ids  landlord,  for  the  stipulated  renewal.  Mr.  Stiles,  anticipating 
his  object,  observed,  "  Well,  Mr.  Girard,  you  have  made  out  so  well 
by  your  bargain  that  I  suppose  you  will  hardly  hold  me  to  the 
renewal  of  the  lease  for  ten  years  more."  "  I  have  come,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Girard,  "to  secure  the  ten  years  more;  I  shall  not  let 
vou  oflT." 


168  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

After  this,  his  brother,  Captain  John  Girard,  arriving  in  this 
country,  the  two  brothers  entered  into  copartnership,  under  the 
firm  of  Stephen  &  John  Girard,  in  connection  with  a  firm  at  Cape 
Fran^aise,  under  the  name  of  Girard,  Bernard  &  Lacrampe,  who 
were  then  prosecuting  a  highly  lucrative  commerce  to  the  West 
Indies.  The  brothers  were  not  at  all  fraternal  in  temper,  and  for 
a  long  time  were  merely  united  by  pecuniar}'  interests.  Stephen 
was  grasping,  parsimonious,  and  authoritative,  while  John  had 
some  little  sentiment  in  his  composition,  which  made  him  yearn 
for  something  beside  the  unscrupulous  accumulation  of  wealth. 
A  rupture  took  place,  the  firm  was  dissolved,  and  it  was  agreed 
to  call  in  an  umpire  to  adjust  and  settle  their  concerns  (1790). 
At  that  period  Stephen  had  fallen  behind  his  brother  either  in 
the  acquisition  of  money  or  the  disparity  of  his  capital  invested 
in  the  concern  ;  for,  upon  the  settlement  of  the  respective  portions, 
John  was  found  to  be  worth  sixty  thousand  dollars,  while  Stephen, 
with  all  his  closeness,  possessed  but  thirty  thousand.  Several  years 
after  the  dissolution,  John  (who  had  a  family)  died  in  the  West 
Indies,  leaving  Stephen  executor  of  his  will.  For  some  eccentric 
reason,  the  latter  never  informed  his  nieces  of  the  fortune  they 
inherited,  but  reared  them  in  total  ignorance  of  the  fact.  It  was 
not  until  the  marriage  of  Antoinette  to  Mr.  Hemphill  that  he 
rendered  an  account  of  his  brother  John's  estate,  and  astonished 
his  nieces  with  a  knowledge  of  their  good  fortune. 

Immediately  p£ter  the  dissolution  of  partnership  he  recom- 
menced his  career  as  a  ship-owner,  and  in  a  short  time  built  four 
vessels,  and  dispatched  them  on  voyages  to  China  and  the  East 
Indies'.  Plis  mind  was  now  bent  on  the  accumulation  of  riches, 
and  the  only  enjoyment  he  permitted  himself  was  the  pursuit  of 
this  object.  His  biographer  says  that  his  sympathies  were  not 
with  the  common  race  of  merchants  or  the  every-day  order  of 
men.  His  ambition  was  to  be  rich,  not  that  he  might  enjoy  rich- 
es, but  that  he  might  die  a  millionaire,  and  so  leave  his  name  to 
posterity.  It  is  scarcely  probable  that  he  possessed  the  faculty  of 
enjoying  himself,  or,  if  he  did,  it  was  so  intimately  mixed  up  with 
making  money  that  it  assumed  all  the  appearance  of  intense  bus- 
iness application.  Of  domestic  bliss  he  knew  little  or  nothing. 
His  wife  had  long  been  an  inmate  of  a  lunatic  asylum,  where  she 
was  destined  to  pass  the  remainder  of  her  days  in  wretched  cap- 
tivity. Possibly  her  lot  had  not  been  of  the  happiest.  Men  of 


STEPHEN  GIRARD.  169 

Girard's  temperament  do  not  make  good  husbands,  and  we  look 
in  vain  for  the  first  indication  of  kindliness  in  his  domestic  rule. 
A  daughter  was  born  to  him,  but  the  poor  weakly  thing  died,  in 
spite  of  all  the  promise  of  Girard's  wealth.  At  the  period  of 
which  we  are  writing,  Girard  was  unquestionably  a  crusty,  plod- 
ding, penurious  man,  singularly  repulsive  in  his  appearance,  and 
awkward  and  vulgar  in  his  address.  It  was  with  the  greatest 
difficulty  that  he  could  express  himself  in  broken  English,  and 
never  did  so  if  there  was  an  opportunity  of  speaking  French. 
"  Sympathy,  feeling,  friendship,  pity,  love,  or  commiseration," 
says  his  biographer,  who  is  also  his  apologist  and  eulogist,  "  were 
emotions  that  never  ruffled  the  equanimity  of  his  mind,  at  least 
to  such  a  degree  as  to  relax  his  energy  of  accumulation,  or  impair 
the  mass  of  money  that  rose  like  mountains  round  about  him. 
Friends,  relations,  old  companions,  confidential  agents,  or  the  gen- 
eral family  of  mankind,  might  sicken  and  die  around  him,  and  he 
would  not  part  with  his  money  to  relieve  and  save  one  among 
them."  The  dark  coloring  of  this  picture  leaves  us  but  little  to 
expect  from  a  man  so  hopelessly  abandoned  to  Mammon ;  yet  a 
bright  and  extraordinary  trait  of  goodness  manifested  itself.  In 
1793,  Philadelphia  was  desolated  with  the  plague.  The  horrors 
of  that  frightful  visitation  have  been  so  often  described  that  it  is 
unnecessary  to  rehearse  them  now.  Husbands  deserted  their 
wives ;  children  their  parents ;  every  one,  in  fact,  who  could  rush 
from  the  scene  of  destruction,  did  so.  The  instinct  of  preserva- 
tion rose  paramount  above  all  other  considerations,  and  scenes  of 
the  most  revolting  and  unnatural  character  were  the  inevitable 
result  of  a  general  panic.  Among  the  poorer  classes  the  mortal- 
ity and  suffering  were  of  course  greatest.  The  impossibility  of 
getting  proper  attendance  and  medical  skill  pressed  with  fatal 
weight  upon  them.  Many  of  these  evils  the  rich  could  avoid.  If 
they  were  attacked,  their  money  obtained  for  them  the  best  phy- 
sicians in  the  city ;  if  they  were  well,  it  carried  them  into  the 
country,  beyond  the  reach  of  infection.  It  would  have  been  ex- 
cusable if  Stephen  Girard,  like  thousands  of  his  fellow-townsmen, 
had  thus  consulted  his  personal  safety  by  flight.  To  the  surprise 
of  every  one,  however,  he  not  only  staid,  but  volunteered  his  serv- 
ices to  nurse  the  sick.  We  quote  from  Mr.  Carey's  pamphlet : 
"At  a  meeting  on  Sunday,  September  15th,  a  circumstance  oc- 
curred to*which  the  most  glowing  pencil  could  hardly  do  justice. 

H 


170  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

Stephen  Girard,  a  wealthy  merchant,  a  native  of  France,  and  one 
of  the  members  of  the  committee,  sympatliizing  with  the  wretch- 
ed situation  of  the  sufferers  at  Bush  Hill,  voluntarily  and  unex- 
pectedly offered  himself  as  a  manager  to  superintend  that  hospi- 
tal. The  surprise  and  satisfaction  excited  by  this  extraordinary 
spirit  of  humanity  can  be  better  conceived  than  expressed.  Peter 
Helm,  a  native  of  Pennsylvania,  also  a  member,  actuated  by  the 
like  benevolent  motives,  offered  his  services  in  the  same  depart- 
ment. Their  offers  were  accepted ;  and  the  same  afternoon  they 
entered  on  the  execution  of  their  dangerous  and  praiseworthy  of- 
fice. To  form  a  just  estimate  of  the  value  of  the  offer  of  these 
citizens,  it  is  necessary  to  take  into  consideration  the  general  con- 
sternation which  at  that  period  pervaded  every  quarter  of  the  city, 
and  which  caused  attendance  on  the  sick  to  be  regarded  as  little 
less  than  a  certain  sacrifice.  Uninfluenced  by  any  reflections  of 
this  kind,  without  any  possible  inducement  but  the  purest  motives 
of  humanity,  they  magnanimously  offered  themselves  as  the  for- 
lorn hope  of  the  committee."  An  anecdote  is  related  by  Mr. 
Simpson,  which  illustrates  in  an  astonishing  way  the  remarkable 
fortitude  and  courage  of  Girard  at  this  dreadful  crisis. 

A  Mr.  T had  been  induced,  like  most  other  citizens,  to  move 

with  his  family  out  of  Pliiladelphia,  to  avoid  the  ravages  of  the 
yellow  fever,  which  was  then  making  fearful  havoc.  Previous 
engagements,  however,  rendered  it  necessary  for  him  to  visit  the 
city  almost  every  day,  and,  unfortunately,  his  presence  was  de- 
manded in  Walnut  Street,  a  few  doors  below  Second.  This  was 
a  fearful  neighborhood,  as  the  fever  was  raging  in  a  shocking  de- 
gree in  "  Farmer's  Row,"  leading  from  Dock  Street,  only  a  few 

doors  from  his  place  of  resort.     For  several  days  Mr.  T felt 

that  he  was  earning  the  name  of  a  man  of  courage  at  a  fearful 
risk,  to  venture  into  such  a  vicinity ;  but  his  business  was  im- 
perative, and  he  continued  to  yield  to  its  demands,  of  course  with 
all  those  precautions  which  science  or  kindness  suggested.  One 

day  Mr.  T turned  the  corner  of  "Walnut  and  Second  Street, 

and  went  a  few  steps  down  the  latter  street  until  he  came  oppo- 
site the  avenue  called  Farmer's  Row.  There  pestilence  had 
chased  away  every  vestige  of  business ;  there  was  nothing  to  break 
the  almost  unearthly  silence  of  the  place,  or  give  an  idea  that  mo- 
tion was  an  attribute  of  any  object  within  view.  He  stood  gaz- 
ing at  the  buildings  that  contained  the  victims,  living  and  dead. 


STEPHEN  GIRARD  171 

of  the  appalling  disease,  when  suddenly  the  approach  of  a  car- 
riage, driven  rapidly  by  a  black  man,  broke  the  silefece  of  the 
place.  The  carriage  was  driven  up  in  front  of  one  of  the  frame 
buildings  on  the  Row.  The  driver  laid  his  whip  back  upon  its 
top,  bound  his  handkerchief  close  to  his  mouth,  opened  the  door 
of  his  vehicle,  and  resumed  his  seat.  A  short,  thick-set  man 
stepped  from  the  coach,  and  went  into  one  of  the  abodes  of  wretch- 
edness. Interested  in  the  result  of  such  a  movement,  involving 
such  imminent  danger,  Mr.  T pressed  his  camphorated  hand- 
kerchief closer  to  his  face,  and  withdrew  as  far  as  he  could  with- 
out losing  sight  of  the  carriage  and  the  house.  His  movement 
enabled  him  to  look,  though  from  a  distance,  into  the  door  of  the 
tenement.  Shortly  afterward  he  saw  a  slow  movement  on  the 
stairs,  as  if  some  person  was  descending  with  difficulty.  No 
noise,  however,  was  heard,  nor  did  there  appear  to  be  any  other 
movement  in  the  house.  Ijp  a  few  minutes  he  distinguished  the 
object  of  his  solicitude  approaching  the  outer  door ;  at  length  he 
stood  full  in  his  view  on  the  pavement.  The  man  who  had  left 
the  carriage  had  been  into  one  of  the  chambers  of  the  house,  and 
had  taken  thence  a  human  being,  who  had  probably  been  left 
without  the  least  attendance,  suffering  with  the  yellow  fever.  The 
size  of  the  sufferer  did  not  allow  the  visitor  to  take  him  up  in  the 
best  mode  for  conveying  him.  As  they  were  on  the  pavement,  the 
right  arm  of  the  man  partly  supported  the  sick  person,  while  the 
left  arm  was  pressed  close  to  his  emaciated  body,  so  as  to  prevent 
his  falling ;  the  feet  of  the  sick  man  touched  the  ground,  and  his 
yellow,  cadaverous  face  rested  against  the  cheek  of  his  conductor. 
Every  breath  he  exhaled  poured  over  the  nostrils  and  mouth  of 
his  supporter  a  volume  of  putrid  effluvium,  while  his  hair,  long 
from  neglect,  and  knotted  and  matted  with  filth,  added  to  the  dis- 
gusting and  fearful  spectacle.  In  this  situation  the  well  man 
partly  carried  and  partly  dragged  the  sufferer  to  the  carriage,  in 
which,  with  great  exertion  and  after  much  time,  he  succeeded  in 
placing  him ;  the  driver,  of  course,  refusing  to  aid  in  such  a  dan- 
gerous enterprise.  The  door  of  the  carriage  was  drawn  to  by  the 
person  inside,  and  then  they  were  driven  slowly  off,  the  sick  man 
lying  in  the  arms  of  the  person  who  had  brought  him  from  his 
wretched  abode.  Who  the  sick  man  was  Mr.  T did  not  in- 
quire ;  but  HE  who  risked  so  much  to  help  a  human  being  that 
had  no  claims  of  consanguinity  or  friendship  upon  his  services — 


172  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

he  who  thus  did  good  to  others  at  such  an  imminent  hazard  to 
himself,  wfts  STEPHEN  GIRA.RD. 

What  a  remarkable  compound  of  mean  selfishness  and  noble 
philanthropy  is  found  in  the  character  of  this  strange  man  !  Un- 
willing to  give  a  dollar  to  save  his  dearest  friend  from  destruc- 
tion, yet  voluntarily  jeopardizing  his  life  to  assuage  the  sufferings 
of  strangers.  His  office  in  the  hospital  was  of  the  most  alarming 
kind ;  he  had  to  encourage  and  comfort  the  sick,  to  hand  them 
necessaries  and  medicines,  to  wipe  the  sweat  of  their  brows,  and 
to  perform  many  disgusting  offices  of  kindness  for  them,  which 
nothing  could  render  tolerable  but  the  exalted  motives  that  im- 
pelled him  to  this  heroic  conduct. 

We  dwell  on  this  incident  with  peculiar  pleasure,  because  it  is 
the  only  one  worth  recording  in  the  life  of  Girard — at  all  events, 
the  only  one  which  seems  to  have  been  dictated  by  purely  disin- 
terested motives.  His  philanthropyywas  too  often  the  result  of 
keen,  calculating,  selfish  motives.  He  would  give  money  for  the 
erection  of  churches  (dealing  out  hundreds  and  thousands  with 
unsparing  hand),  but  it  was  always  necessary  that  the  church 
should  be  in  some  location  likely  to  benefit  his  property.  Of  in- 
dividual wants  he  was  totally  indifferent ;  the  moans  of  the  suf- 
fering, the  hollow  cry  of  the  famished,  the  lamentations  of  the 
widowed  and  fatherless,  never  reached  his  ears.  If  he  gave  to  be- 
nevolent institutions,  it  was  that  he  might  be  remembered  in  the 
blazoned  subscription  list,  and  not  that  he  conceived  the  necessity 
of  such  institutions.  In  a  word,  he  was  a  thoroughly  wretched 
being,  utterly  unworthy  of  imitation  or  even  remembrance.  The 
Giver  of  all  things  sometimes  selects  an  unworthy  instrument  to 
perform  His  behests,  and  Girard  was  sent  into  the  world  to  do 
good,  although  with  a  repulsiveness  that  did  not  suggest  benefi- 
cence. It  was,  as  we  have  before  remarked,  his  ambition  to  be 
remembered  and  respected  after  death.  For  the  living  he  cared 
nothing.  The  good  opinion  of  his  fellow-man  (a  worldly  prize 
that  the  poorest  may  possess)  he  treated  with  contempt,  and  at 
any  moment  would  sacrifice  it  for  a  cent.  Overbearing,  grasp- 
ing, tyrannous,  and  mean,  he  looked  on  those  around  him  as  so 
many  tools.  If  they  were  sharp  and  expeditious,  he  was  willing 
to  use  them ;  but  the  moment  they  had  been  applied  in  the  right 
way,  he  cast  them  from  him.  Gratitude  for  their  services  (which 
were  sometimes  of  inestimable  value  to  him)  never  entered  his 


STEPHEN  GIRARD.  173 

mind.  His  career  was  one  of  horrible  closeness.  He  gave  the 
smallest  wage  for  the  largest  amount  of  work,  and  if  there  was 
an  opportunity  of  pulling  down  a  poor  fellow's  salary,  after  many 
years  of  devoted  labor,  he  pulled  it  down  without  a  moment's  hes- 
itation. In  a  country  where  the  pursuit  of  riches  is  conducted  in 
the  most  liberal  spirit,  and  where  paltry  meanness  is  utterly  un- 
known, the  character  of  Girard  naturally  excited  disgust.  His 
wealth  gave  him  a  certain  influence  which  had  to  be  respected, 
but  his  acts  were  viewed  with  contempt  by  every  American  with 
whom  he  came  in  contact. 

If  a  man  start  in  life  with  the  determination  to  eschew  all  its 
social  obligations,  he  is  at  once  in  a  position  of  advantage  toward 
his  neighbor  which  must  lead  to  his  own  aggrandizement.  By 
dint  of  indefatigable  industry  and  unscrupulous  stinginess,  Girard 
found  his»  hoards  increasing  daily,  until  he  was  in  a  position  to 
become  proprietor  of  a  public  bank,  and  to  take  government  loans 
to  any  amount.  One  step  on  the  ladder  of  riches  secures  anoth- 
er. The  command  of  a  bank  enabled  Girard  to  extend  his  com- 
mercial transactions,  and  to-  enter  on  fields  of  commerce  which 
were  closed  to  smaller  capitalists.  With  such  advantages,  it  was 
no  unusual  stroke  of  luck  that  netted  him  half  a  million  of  dol- 
lars at  a  single  venture.  Thus  he  amassed  the  immense  fortune 
which  it  was  his  mission  to  leave  behind  for  the  public  good.  It 
would  be  tedious  and  unprofitable  to  follow  his  career  more  mi- 
nutely. 

For  some  time  previous  to  the  illness  which  terminated  his  ca- 
reer, Mr.  Girard  underwent  the  gradual  breaking  up  of  constitu- 
tion common  to  men  of  great  age,  but  he  never  relaxed  in  his 
business  application.  In  1826  he  was  violently  attacked  with 
the  erysipelas  in  his  head  and  legs,  which  confined  him  to  his 
house  for  several  weeks,  and  finally  left  him  much  debilitated. 
Unable  to  attend  at  the  bank,  he  transacted  its  business  at  home. 
Every  day  his  cashier  visited  him  with  the  bills  offered  for  dis- 
count, and  took  his  views  concerning  them.  On  partly  recover- 
ing, he  altered  his  mode  of  living  (he  was  fond  of  good  dinners), 
and  adopted  a  vegetable  diet,  which  he  persisted  in  to  the  day  of 
his  death.  He  continued,  as  might  be  expected,  to  grow  weaker, 
his  eyesight  became  more  dim,  and  he  found  it  difficult  to  walk 
the  streets  with  safety.  "In  the  year  1830,"  says  Mr.  Simpson, 
"  I  have  often  discovered  him  groping  in  the  vestibule  of  his  bank, 


174  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

and  feeling  about  for  the  door  without  success.  Still  he  would 
suffer  no  one  to  attend  on  or  assist  him."  The  result  of  this 
proud  obstinacy  was  an  accident.  In  crossing  a  street  he  was 
knocked  down  by  a  wagon,  the  wheel  of  which  struck  the  side  of 
his  face,  lacerating  the  flesh,  and  tearing  off  the  greater  part  of  his 
right  ear.  He  walked  home,  but  an  examination  of  the  wound 
showed  that  it  was  more  serious  and  extensive  than  was  at  first 
imagined,  and  he  suffered  a  long  confinement.  He  lost  nearly 
the  whole  of  his  right  ear,  and  the  eye,  before  but  slightly  open, 
was  now  entirely  closed.  The  pain  occasioned  by  the  wound  and 
the  necessary  operations  of  the  doctor  seriously  affected  his  con- 
stitution, and  left  it  exposed  to  the  prey  of  other  diseases.  In  the 
following  year  (1831)  he  was  attacked  with  bronchitis.  Fitful  in- 
sanity or  partial  derangement  quickly  succeeded,  which,  increas- 
ing from  day  to  day,  terminated  in  unconsciousness  and  utter  pros- 
tration. He  refused  to  take  medicine,  and  on  the  26th  of  De- 
cember, 1831,  departed  this  life,  in  the  82d  year  of  his  age.  The 
only  emotion  excited  by  the  event  was  one  of  curiosity  to  know 
how  old  Girard  had  disposed  of  his  property,  amounting  to  ten  mill- 
ions of  dollars.  "  The  moment  the  true  character  of  his  bequests 
was  known,"  says  Mr.  Simpson,  "  a  loud  shout  of  applause  and  ad- 
miration filled  the  public  press,  and  flowed  from  every  tongue,  suc- 
ceeded by  a  profound  sentiment  of  gratitude  and  esteem  for  the 
man,  the  citizen,  and  the  philanthropist.  Surprise  and  increduli- 
ty for  a  time  divided  the  minds  of  men.  His  friends  Avere  disap- 
pointed, and  his  enemies  disarmed ;  Prejudice  confessed  she  had 
done  him  injustice,  and  Charity  wept  that  she  had  ever  deemed 
him  hard  of  heart.  Perhaps  the  anxiety  as  well  as  depth  of  the 
emotions  excited  by  his  unique  will  in  the  public  mind  were  never 
before  equaled." 

It  is  melancholy  to  reflect  that  the  only  gratitude  excited  by 
the  life-efforts  of  an  individual  should  be  confined  to  that  brief 
period  allotted  to  the  formation  of  his  will ;  that  the  only  ad- 
mirable act  of  his  life  was  the  one  which  was  consummated  by 
death.  Yet  this  was  the  case  with  Girard.  It  is  charitable  to 
believe  that  the  extreme  parsimony  of  his  life  was  a  part  of  a 
large  plan  of  philanthropy  which  it  was  his  ambition  to  perfect, 
and  which,  requiring  millions,  demanded  economy.  Whether  a 
man  discharge  the  obligations  of  wealth  by  thus  penuriously  grind- 
ing the  last  penny  out  of  those  around  him,  thus  shutting  out 


STEPHEN  GIRARD.  175 

the  sympathies,  the  fellowship,  and  good  opinion  of  the  world,  may 
well  admit  of  doubt.  The  test  of  a  man's  life  is  the  example  he 
presents  for  the  imitation  of  others.  Judged  by  this  standard, 
Girard  certainly  falls  short.  There  is  nothing  whatever  in  his 
life  worthy  of  hearty  commendation  save  his  disinterested  conduct 
during  the  yellow  fever  crisis.  He  was  mean,  tyrannous,  igno- 
rant, and  utterly  destitute  of  religious  sentiment.  Even  the  credit 
of  having  devoted  his  enormous  wealth  to  worthy  objects  is  miti- 
gated by  the  fact  that,  after,  all,  a  man  must  do  something  with 
1  he  money  he  has  accumulated ;  he  can  not  carry  it  with  him  to 
the  grave. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  the  public  bequests  under  the  testa- 
mentary documents  of  Stephen  Girard.  His  desire  to  be-  remem- 
bered "  forever"  is  very  observable  : 

1.  To  the  "  Contributors  of  the  Pennsylvania  Hospital"  the 
sum  of  $30,000,  to  remain  part  of  their  capital  "  forever." 

2.  To  the  "  Pennsylvania  Institution  for  the  Deaf  and  Dumb" 
the  sum  of  $20,000. 

3.  To  "  the  Orphan  Asylum  of  Philadelphia"  the  sum  of  $10,000. 

4.  To  the  "  Controllers  of  the  Public  Schools  for  the  City  and 
County  of  Philadelphia"  the  sum  of  $10,000,  for  the  use  of  the 
schools  "  upon  the  Lancaster  system." 

5.  To  the  "  Mayor,  Aldermen,  and  Citizens  of  Philadelphia" 
the  sum  of  $10,000,  in  trust,  to  safely  invest  the  same  in  some 
productive  fund,  and  with  the  interest  and  dividends  arising  there- 
from, to  purchase  fuel  between  the  months  of  March  and  August 
in  every  year  "  forever,"  and  in  the  month  of  January  in  every 
year  "forever,"  distribute  the  same  among  poor  white  house- 
keepers and  room-keepers  of  good  character  residing  in  the  city 
of  Philadelphia. 

6.  To  the  "  Society  for  the  Belief  of  Poor  and  Distressed  Mas- 
ters of  Ships,  their.  Widows  and  Children,"  the  sum  of  $10,000. 

7.  To  the  trustees  of  the  "  Masonic  Loan"  the  sum  of  $20,000, 
to  remain  "  forever"  a  permanent  fund  or  capital. 

8.  To  "  Trustees  of  Passyunk  Township"  the  sum  of  $6000, 
to  erect  a  schoolhouse. 

9.  To  the  "  Corporation  of  the  City  of  New  Orleans"  real  es- 
tate, consisting  of  a  thousand  acres  of  land,  appurtenances,  and 
thirty  slaves,  in  trust,  after  twenty  years'  inheritance  by  Judge 
Uree,  to  be  applied  to  such  uses  and  purposes  as  they  shall  con- 


170  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

sider  most  likely  to  promote  the  health  and  general  prosperity  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  city  of  New  Orleans. 

10.  To  the  "Mayor,  Aldermen,  and  Citizens  of  Philadelphia," 
their  successors  and  assigns,  in  trust,  all  the  residue  and  remain- 
der of  his  real  and  personal  estate,  to  and  for  the  several  uses, 
intents,  and  purposes  hereinafter  mentioned  and  declared  of  and 
concerning  the  same.  So -far  as  regarded  his  real  estate  in  Penn- 
sylvania, in  trust,  that  no  part  should  be  sold,  but  should  "for- 
ever" be  let,  from  time  to  time,  to  good  tenants  at  yearly  or  other 
rents,  the  profits  arising  therefrom  to  be  applied  toward  keeping 
that  part  of  said  real  estate  constantly  in  good  repair,  and  toward 
improving  the  same  whenever  necessary  by  erecting  new  build- 
ings, and  that  the  nett  residue  be  applied  to  the  same  uses  and 
purposes  as  are  herein  declared  of  and  concerning  the  residue  of 
his  personal  estate.  And  so  far  as  regards  his  real  estate  in 
Kentucky,  to  sell  and  dispose  of  the  same,  whenever  it  may  be 
expedient  to  do  so,  and  to  apply  the  proceeds  of  such  sale  to  the 
same  uses  and  purposes  as  are  herein  declared  of  and  concerning 
the  residue  of  his  personal  estate.  And  so  far  as  regards  the 
residue  of  his  personal  estate,  in  trust,  as  to  two  millions  of  dol- 
lars part  thereof,  to  apply  and  expend  so  much  of  that  sum  as 
may  be  necessary  in  erecting  on  his  square  of  ground,  between 
High  and  Chesnut  Streets,  and  Eleventh  and  Twelfth  Streets, 
Philadelphia  (which  square  of  ground  he  devotes  to  the  purpose 
forever),  a  permanent  college,  with  suitable  out-buildings,  suffi- 
ciently spacious  for  the  residence  and  accommodation  of  at  least 
three  hundred  scholars,  and  the  requisite  teachers  and  other  per- 
sons necessary  in  such  an  institution,  and  in  supplying  the  said 
college  and  out-buildings  with  decent  and  suitable  furniture,  as 
well  as  books  and  all  things  needful  to  carry  into  effect  his  general 
design.  Concerning  the  construction  of  the  building  he  gives  ex- 
plicit directions,  which  it  is  only  necessary  to  say  have  been  car- 
ried out.  He  directs  that  a  room  in  this  building  most  suitable 
for  the  purpose  shall  be  set  apart  for  the  reception  and  preserva- 
tion of  his  books  and  papers,  and  carefully  preserved  therein. 
His  plate  and  furniture  of  every  sort  he  directs  his  executors  to 
place  in  one  of  the  out-buildings  of  the  college.  When  the  col- 
lege and  appurtenances  shall  have  been  constructed,  and  supplied 
with  plain  and  suitable  furniture  and  books,  philosophical  and 
experimental  instruments  and  apparatus,  and  all  other  matters 
needful  to  carry  his  general  design  into  execution,  the  income, 


STEPHEN  GIRARD.  177 

issues,  and  profits  of  so  much  of  the  said  sum  of  two  millions  of 
dollars  as  shall  remain  unexpended  shall  be  applied  to  maintain 
the  said  college  according  to  his  directions,  which  are  as  follows : 

1.  The  institution  shall  be  organized  as  soon  as  practicable, 
and  to  accomplish  that  purpose  more  effectually,  due  public  notice 
of  the  intended  opening  of  the  college  shall  be  given,  so  that  there 
may  be  an  opportunity  to  make  selections  of  competent  instructors 
and  other  agents,  and  those  who  may  have  the  charge  of  orphans 
may  be  aware  of  the  provisions  intended  for  them. 

2.  A  competent  number  of  instructors,  teachers,  assistants,  and 
other  necessary  agents  shall  be  selected,  and,  when  needful,  their 
places  from  time  to  time  supplied.     They  shall  receive  adequate 
compensation  for  their  services  ;  but  no  person  shall  be  employed 
who  shall  not  be  of  tried  skill  in  his  or  her  proper  department,  of 
established  moral  character,  and  in  all  cases  persons  shall  be  chosen 
on  account  of  their  merit,  and  not  through  favor  or  intrigue. 

3.  As  many  poor  white  male  orphans,  between  the  ages  of  six 
and  ten  years,  as  the  said  income  shall  be  adequate  to  maintain, 
shall  be  introduced  into  the  college  as  soon  as  possible ;  and  from 
time  to  time,  as  there  may  be  vacancies,  or  as  increased  ability  from 
income  may  warrant,  others  shall  be  introduced. 

4.  On  the  application  for  admission,  an  accurate   statement 
should  be  taken,  in  a  book  prepared  for  the  purpose,  of  the  name, 
birth-place,  age,  health,  condition  as  to  relatives,  and  other  par- 
ticulars useful  to  be  known  of  each  orphan. 

5.  No  orphan  should  be  admitted  until  the  guardians  or  direct- 
ors of -the  poor,  or  a  proper  guardian,  or  other  competent  author- 
ky,  shall  have  given,  by  indenture,  relinquishm'ent,  or  otherwise, 
adequate  power  to  the  mayor,  aldermen,  and  citizens  of  Philadel- 
phia, or  to  directors  or  others  by  them  appointed,  to  enforce,  in 
relation  to  each  orphan,  every  proper  restraint,  and  to  prevent 
relatives  or  others  from  interfering  with  or  withdrawing  such  or- 
phans from  the  institution. 

6.  Those  orphans  for  whose  admission  application  shall  first  be 
made  shall  be  first  introduced,  all  other  things  concurring ;  and 
at  all  future  times,  priority  of  application  shall  entitle  the  appli- 
cant to  preference  in  admission,  all  other  things  concurring ;  but 
if  there  shall  be  at  any  time  more  applicants  than  vacancies,  and 
the  applying  orphans  shall  have  been  born  in  different  places,  a 
preference  shall  be  given,  first,  to  orphans  born  in  the  city  of 

H  2 


178  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

Philadelphia ;  secondly,  to  those  born  in  any  other  part  of  Penn- 
sylvania; thirdly,  to  those  born  in  the  city  of  New  York  (that 
being  the  first  port  on  the  continent  of  North  America  at  which 
Girard  first  arrived);  and,  lastly,  to  those  born  in  the  city  of  New 
Orleans  (being  the  first  port  of  the  said  continent  at  which  he  first 
traded,  in  the  first  instance  as  first  officer,  and  subsequently  as 
master  and  owner  of  a  vessel  and  cargo). 

7.  The  orphans  admitted  into  the  college  shall  be  there  fed 
with  plain  but  wholesome  food,  clothed  with  plain  but  decent  ap- 
parel (no  distinctive  dress  ever  to  be  worn),  and  lodged  in  a  plain 
but  safe  manner.     Due  regard  shall  be  paid  to  their  health,  and 
to  this  end  their  persons  and  clothes  shall  be  kept  clean,  and  they 
shall  have  suitable  and  rational  exercise  and  recreation.     They 
shall  be  instructed  in  the  various  branches  of  a  sound  education, 
comprehending  reading,  writing,  grammar,  arithmetic,  geography, 
navigation,  surveying,  practical  mathematics,  astronomy,  natural, 
chemical,  and  experimental  philosophy,  the  French  and  Spanish 
languages  (he  does  not  forbid,  nor  does  he  recommend,  the  Greek 
and  Latin  languages),  and  such  other  learning  and  science  as  the 
capacities  of  the  several  scholars  may  merit  or  warrant :  he  would 
rather  have  them  taught  facts  and  things  than  words  or  signs. 
And  especially  he  desires  that,  by  every  proper  means,  a  pure  at- 
tachment to  our  republican  institutions,  and  to  the  sacred  rights 
of  conscience  as  guaranteed  by  our  happy  Constitutions,  shall  be 
formed  and  fostered  in  the  minds  of  the  scholars. 

8.  Should  it  unfortunately  happen  that  any  of  the  orphans  ad- 
mitted into  the  college  shall,  from  malconduct,  have  become  unfit 
companions  for  the  rest,  and  mild  means  of  reformation  prove 
abortive,  they  should  no  longer  remain  therein. 

9.  Those  scholars  who  shall  merit  it  shall  remain  in  the  col- 
lege until  they  shall  respectively  arrive  at  between  fourteen  and 
eighteen  years  of  age ;  they  shall  then  be  bound  out  by  the  may- 
or, aldermen,  and  citizens  of  Philadelphia,  or  under  their  direc- 
tion, to  suitable  occupations,  as  those  of  agriculture,  navigation, 
arts,  mechanical  trades,  and  manufactures,  according  to  the  ca- 
pacities and  acquirements  of  the  scholars  respectively,  consulting, 
us  far  as  prudence  shall  justify  it,  the  inclinations  of  the  several 
scholars  as  to  the  occupation,  art,  or  trade  to  be  learned. 

In  relation  to  the  organization  of  the  college  and  its  append- 
ages, he  leaves,  necessarily,  many  details  to  the  mayor,  aldermen, 
and  citizens  of  Philadelphia,  and  their  successors  ;  and  he  does  BO 


STEPHEN  GIRARD.  179 

with  the  more  confidence,  as,  from  the  nature  of  his  bequests  and 
the  benefits  to  result  from  them,  he  trusts  that  his  fellow-citizens 
of  Philadelphia  will  observe  and  evince  special  care  and  anxiety  in  se- 
lecting members  for  their  city  councils,  and  other  agents. 

There  were,  however,  some  restrictions,  which  he  considered  it 
his  duty  to  prescribe,  and  to  be,  among  others,  conditions  on 
which  his  bequest  for  said  college  is  made  and  enjoyed :  first,  he 
enjoins  and  requires  that  if,  at  the  close  of  any  year,  the  income 
of  the  fund  devoted  to  the  purposes  of  the  said  college  shall  be 
more  than  sufficient  for  the  maintenance  of  the  institution  during 
that  year,  then  the  balance  of  the  said  income,  after  defraying 
such  maintenance,  shall  be  forthwith  invested  in  good  securities, 
thereafter  to  be  and  remain  a  part  of  the  capital ;  but  in  no  event 
shall  any  part  of  the  capital  be  sold,  disposed  of,  or  pledged  to 
meet  the  current  expenses  of  the  said  institution,  to  which  he  de- 
votes the  interest,  income,  and  dividends  thereof  exclusively ; 
secondly,  he  enjoins  and  requires  that  no  ecclesiastic,  missionary,  or 
minister  of  any  sect  wJiatsoever,  shall  ever  hold  or  exercise  any  station 
or  duty  whatever  in  the  said  college  ;  nor  shall  any  such  person  ever  be 
admitted  for  any  purpose,  or  as  a  visitor,  within  the  premises  appro- 
priated to  the  purposes  of  the  said  college.  In  making  this  restric- 
tion, he  says,  he  does  not  mean  to  cast  any  reflection  upon  any 
sect  or  person  whatsoever ;  but  as  there  is  such  a  multitude  of 
sects,  and  such  a  diversity  of  opinion  among  them,  he  desires  to 
keep  the  minds  of  the  orphans  who  are  to  derive  advantage  from 
this  bequest  free  from  the  excitement  which  clashing  doctrines 
and  sectarian  controversy  are  so  apt  to  produce.  His  desire  is, 
that  all  the  instructors  and  teachers  in  the  college  shall  take  pains 
to  instill  into  the  minds  of  the  scholars  the  purest  principles  of  mo- 
rality, so  that,  on  their  entrance  into  active  life,  they  may  from 
inclination  and  habit  evince  benevolence  toward  their  fellow-creatures, 
and  a  love  of  truth,  sobriety,  and  industry,  adopting,  at  the  same 
time,  such  religious  tenets  as  their  matured  reason  may  enable 
them  to  prefer. 

If  the  income  arising  from  that  part  of  the  said  sum  of  two 
millions  of  dollars  remaining  after  the  construction  and  furnish- 
ing of  the  college  and  out-buildings  shall,  owing  to  the  increase 
of  the  number  of  orphans  applying  for  admission,  or  other  cause, 
be  inadequate  to  the  construction  of  new  buildings,  or  the  main- 
tenance and  education  of  as  many  orphans  as  may  apply  for  ad- 
mission, then  such  farther  sum  as  may  be  necessary  for  the  con- 


180  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

struction  of  new  buildings  and  the  maintenance  and  education  of 
such  farther  number  of  orphans  as  can  be  maintained  and  in- 
structed within  such  buildings  as  the  said  square  of  ground  shall 
be  adequate  to,  shall  be  taken  from  the  final  residuary  fund  here- 
inafter expressly  referred  to  for  the  purpose,  comprehending  the 
income  of  his  real  estate  in  the  city  and  county  of  Philadelphia, 
and  the  dividends  of  his  stock  in  the  Schuylkill  Navigation  Com- 
pany;  his  design  and  desire  being  that  the  benefits  of  said  insti- 
tution should  be  extended  to  as  great  a  number  of  orphans  as  the 
limits  of  the  said  square  and  buildings  therein  can  accommodate. 

For  the  improvement  of  various  parts  of  the  city  of  Philadel- 
phia Mr.  Girard  bequeaths  the  sum  of  five  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars in  trusts  for  the  purposes  specified ;  also  the  sum  of  three 
hundred  thousand  dollars  for  the  purpose  of  internal  improvement 
by  canal  navigation.  The  residue  of  his  property  he  bequeaths 
in  trust  to  be  invested  in  good  securities,  and  the  income  thereof 
applied,  ;.-^ 

1st.  To  the  farther  improvement  and  maintenance  of  the  afore- 
said college. 

2d.  To  enable  the  corporation  of  the  city  of  Philadelphia  to 
provide  more  effectually  for  the  security  of  the  persons  and  prop- 
erty of  the  said  city,  by  a  competent  police,  including  a  sufficient 
number  of  watchmen  really  suited  to  the  purpose. 

3d.  To  enable  the  said  corporation  to  improve  the  city  proper- 
ty and  the  general  appearance  of  the  city  itself,  and  in  effect  to 
diminish  the  burden  of  taxation.  To  all  of  which  objects  he  di- 
rects the  income  arising  from  the  fund  aforesaid  to  be  devoted 
"  forever." 

The  will  from  which  the  above  abstract  is  taken  was  executed 
on  the  16th  of  February,  1830.  Four  months  later  Mr.  Girard 
published  a  codicil,  declaring  it  to  be  his  intention,  and  directing 
that  the  orphan  establishment  provided  for  in  his  will,  instead  of 
being  built,  as  therein  directed,  upon  his  square  of  ground  ber 
tween  High  and  Chestnut  Streets  and  Eleventh  and  Twelfth 
Streets  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  should  be  built  upon  the  es- 
tate then  recently  purchased  from  Mr.  Parker,  and  consisting  of 
the  mansion-house,  out-buildings,  and  forty-five  acres  and  some 
perches  of  land,  called  Peel  Hill,  on  the  Ridge  Road,  in  Penn 
Township.  The  square  of  ground  originally  intended  for  the  site 
he  constitutes  and  declares  to  be  a  part  of  the  residue  and  re- 
mainder of  his  real  and  personal  estate. 


SIR  WILLIAM    PHIPS. 

• 

WHEN  the  early  history  of  America  shall  be  shrouded  in  the 
dim  traditions  of  the  past,  the  life-story  of  Sir  William  Phips  will 
seem  like  a  legend  built  of  men's  fancies,  and  not  based  upon  the 
realities  of  the  day.  There  is  nothing  more  romantic  in  our  vol- 
ume. 

Phips  was  born  on  the  2d  of  February,  1651,  at  Woolwich, 
in  Maine,  a  small  settlement  near  the  mouth  of  the  River  Kenne- 
bec.  His  father  was  a  robust  Englishman,  a  gunsmith  by  trade,- 
and  the  parent  of  no  fewer  than  twenty-six  children,  all  by  one 
mother.  At  an  early  age,  William  (who  was  one  of  the  youn- 
gest) had  to  look  out  for  himself.  The  death  of  his  father  placed 
him  in  the  responsible  position  of  head  of  the  family.  Until  his 
eighteenth  year  he  gained  a  scanty  income  by  tending  sheep,  but 
his  adventurous  disposition  was  not  content  with  the  primeval 
simplicity  of  this  occupation.  He  longed  to  become  a  sailor,  and 
roam  through  the  world.  At  first  he  was  unable  to  change  occu- 
pations with  the  facility  he  expected.  He  could  not  get  a  situa- 
tion -as  a  sailor,  so  he  apprenticed  himself  to  a  ship-builder.  It 
is  probable  that  he  learned  this  lucrative  trade  in  a  very  thorough 
manner,  for  we  find  him  afterward  in  Boston  pursuing  it  with  suc- 
cess, and  devoting  his  leisure  hours  to  reading  and  writing.  In 
addition  to  these  accomplishments,  he  found  time  to  make  love  to 
ii  rich  widow,  and  with  such  success  that  he  married  her,  in  spite 
of  some  disparity  in  age.  Immediately  after  this  he  went  into 
business  as  a  ship-builder,  and  constructed  a  vessel  on  Sheepscot 
River.  Having  in  due  time  launched  the  craft,  he  engaged  to 
procure  a  lading  of  lumber,  and  return  to  Boston.  He  consoled 
his  wife  with  the  assurance  that  he  would  some  day  get  the  com- 
mand of  a  king's  ship,  and  become  the  owner  "  of  a  fair  brick 
house  in  the  Green  Lane  of  North  Boston."  In  those  days, 
brick  houses  were  as  aristocratic  as  marble  palaces  in  our  time. 

These  magnificent  visions  were  not  to  be  immediately  realized. 
Phips  and  his  ship  appear  to  have  lived  an  industrious,  plodding 
sort  of  life  for  at  least  ten  years,  and  without  any  particularly 
golden  results.  He  did  little  jobs  at  his  ship-yard,  and  per- 


182  .  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

formed  short  coasting  voyages,  all  the  while  dreaming  of  better 
times,  and  sighing  that  they  were  still  so  distant.  One  day,  as 
he  strolled  through  the  crooked  streets  of  Boston,  he  heard  the 
sombre-looking  merchants  talking  to  each  other  about  a  ship- 
wreck that  had  occurred  near  the  Bahamas.  It  was  a  Spanish 
vessel,  and  was  known  to  have  money  on  board.  Phips  walked 
straight  down  to  his  vessel,  shipped  a  few  hands,  and  sailed  for 
the  Bahamas  without  farther  delay.  It  was  exactly  the  sort  of 
enterprise  for  his  ardent  nature.  He  succeeded  in  finding  the 
wreck,  and  in  recovering  a  great  deal  of  its  cargo,  but  the  value 
of  it  scarcely  defrayed  the  expenses  of  the  voyage.  He  was  told, 
however,  of  another  and  more  richly-laden  vessel  which  had  been 
•wrecked  near  Port  de  la  Plata  more  than  half  a  century  before, 
and  which  was  known  to  contain  treasure  to  an  enormous  amount. 
Phips  immediately  conceived  the  idea  of  fishing  up  this  wealth ; 
but,  as  he  was  too  poor  to  undertake  the  operation  without  assist- 
ance, he  proceeded  to  England,  while  the  fame  of  his  recent  expe- 
dition was  new  in  people's  mouths,  and  succeeded  in  persuading 
the  government  to  go  into  the  matter.  He  arrived  in  London  in 
1684,  and,  before  the  expiration  of  the  year,  was  appointed  to 
the  command  of  the  Rose-Algier,  a  ship  of  eighteen  guns  and 
ninety-five  men.  The  first  part  of  the  destiny  he  had  marked  out 
for  himself  was  now  fulfilled — he  was  the  commander  of  a  king's 
ship. 

When  you  want  to  find  a  thing  that  has  been  lost,  some  knowl- 
edge of  the  locality  where  the  loss  occurred  is  certainly  useful ;  but 
Phips  started  with  very  vague  ideas  on  the  subject,  extending  mere- 
ly to  a  general  indication  of  the  coast  on  which  the  ship  had  foun- 
dered. He  was  light  of  heart,  however,  and  full  of  hope.  Per- 
haps he  thought  it  was  all  right  so  long  as  he  had  ship  and  crew. 
The  latter,  however,  began  to  grow  dissatisfied,  and,  when  they 
had  fished  in  the  depths  of  old  ocean  for  some  time  without  bring- 
ing up  any  thing  but  sea-weed,  and  gravel,  and  bits  of  rock,  they 
mutinied  outright,  and  demanded  that  the  immediate  object  of  the 
voyage  should  be  relinquished.  They  rushed  upon  the  quarter- 
deck and  bullied  the  commander,  but  they  could  not  intimidate 
him.  He  got  the  better  of  them  every  time  they  attempted  it. 
On  one  occasion  the  ship  had  been  brought  to  anchor  at  a  small 
and  uninhabited  island  for  the  purpose  of  undergoing  some  repairs. 
It  was  found  necessary  to  lighten  the  vessel  by  removing  some  of 


SIR  WILLIAM  PHIPS.  183 

her  stores  to  the  shore.  The  ship  was  then  brought  down  by  the 
side  of  a  rock  stretching  out  from  the  land,  and  a  bridgeway  con- 
structed, so  that  an  easy  communication  from  the  shore  was  estab- 
lished. The  crew  had  a  good  deal  of  time  to  spare  while  the  car- 
penters were  at  work,  and,  like  all  idle  boys,  they  got  into  mischief. 
They  plotted  to  overthrow  Phips  and  the  few  men  he  had  with 
him  on  board,  seize  the  vessel,  and  start  on  a  piratical  cruise 
against  Spanish  vessels  in  the  South  Sea.  Phips  and  his  adhe- 
rents, if  they  objected  to  this  arrangement,  were  to  be  put  to  death. 
Only  one  man  did  they  care  about  saving,  and  that  was  the  prin- 
cipal ship-carpenter.  They  thought  his  services  might  be  useful. 
To  this  worthy  they  imparted  their  design,  informing  him,  more- 
over, that  if  he  did  not  join  in  its  execution,  they  would  put  him 
to  instant  death.  The  ship-carpenter  was  an  honest  fellow,  and 
in  his  heart  despised  these  mean  traitors.  It  was  necessary  to  be 
prudent,  however,  so  he  told  them  that  he  would  give  them  an 
answer  in  half  an  hour,  and,  in  the  mean  time,  collect  his  tools. 
He  returned  to  the  ship,  and,  by  pretending  to  be  suddenly  sick, 
found  an  opportunity  of  telling  the  captain  what  was  brewing,  in 
spite  of  the  watchfulness  of  those  around  him.  Phips  was  per- 
fectly cool ;  bade  him  return  with  the  others,  and  leave  the  rest  to 
him.  In  a  brief  address,  he  told  the  few  men  who  were  on  board 
what  was  about  to  take  place,  and,  finding  them  loyal,  immediately 
commenced  adopting  measures  of  precaution  and  defense.  A  few 
of  the  ship's  guns  had  been  removed  with  the  stores  to  the  land, 
and  planted  in  such  a  manner  as  to  defend  them.  He  caused  the 
charges  to  be  drawn  from  these,  and  their  position  reversed,  and 
then  he  removed  all  the  ammunition  to  the  frigate.  The  bridge 
communicating  with  the  land  was  taken  up,  and  the  ship's  guns 
loaded  and  trained  so  as  to  command  all  approaches  to  the  en- 
campment. When  the  mutineers  made  their  appearance,  they 
were  hailed  by  Phips,  and  warned  that  if  they  approached  the 
stores  they  would  be  fired  upon.  Knowing  the  man,  they  re- 
spected this  intimation,  and  kept  at  a  respectful  distance,  while 
Phips  and  the  few  faithful  fellows  he  could  spare  for  the  purpose 
removed  the  stores  from  the  island  to  the  ship  under  cover  of  the 
guns.  The  prospect  of  being  left  on  the  island  with  nothing  to 
eat  and  drink  soon  brought  the  mutineers  to  terms,  and  they 
threw  down  tfleir  arms,  and  begged  for  permission  to  return  to 
their  duty.  This  request  was  granted  when  suitable  precautions 


184  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

had  been  taken  to  deprive  them  of  any  future  ability  to  do  mischief. 
When  Phips  touched  port,  he  thought  k  best  for  his  own  safety 
and  for  the  welfare  of  the  expedition  to  get  rid  of  his  troublesome 
crew,  and  ship  another  less  disposed  to  piracy. 

Soon  after  this,  Phips  gained  precise  information  of  the  spot 
where  the  Spanish  treasure-ship  had  sunk.  He  proceeded  to  it, 
but,  before  his  explorations  were  'any  way  complete,  he  had  to  re- 
turn to  England  for  repairs.  The  English  Admiralty  pretended 
to  be  immensely  pleased  with  his  exertions,  but  would  not  again 
intrust  him  with  the  command  of  a  national  vessel.  He  had, 
therefore,  to  appeal  to  private  individuals.  In  a  short  time  he 
liad  secured  the  interest  of  the  Duke  of  Albemarle,  who,  with  a 
few  other  gentlemen,  fitted  out  a  vessel  and  gave  him  the  com- 
mand. A  patent  was  obtained  from  the  king  giving  to  the  com- 
pany an  exclusive  right  to  all  the  wrecks  that  might  be  discover- 
ed for  a  number  of  years.  A  tender  was  also  provided  for  navi- 
gating shallow  water  where  the  ship  could  not  venture.  Having 
manned  and  equipped  his  vessel,  he  started  once  more  for  Port 
de  la  Plata,  and  arrived  in  safety  at  the  reef  of  rocks  where  the 
Spanish  vessel  was  supposed  to  lie.  A  number  of  Indian  divers 
were  employed  to  go  down  to  the  bottom,  and  the  ship's  crew 
dredged  in  every  direction,  but  with  no  success.  Just  as  they 
were  leaving  the  reef  one  day  in  despair,  a  sailor  observed  a  cu- 
rious sea-plant  growing  in  what  appeared  to  be  a  crevice  of  the 
rock.  He  told  a  diver  to  fetch  it  for  him,  and,  when  the  red 
gentleman  came  up  again,  he  said  that  there  were  a  number  of 
ships'  guns  in  the  same  place.  The  news  was  received  with  in- 
credulity, but  in  a  very  little  time  it  was  ascertained  to  be  sub- 
stantially correct.  Presently  a  diver  returned  with  a  bar  of  solid 
silver  in  his  arms  worth  two  or  three  hundred  pounds  sterling,  and 
every  one  knew  that  the  wreck  had  been  discovered.  "  Thanks 
be  to  God,  we  are  all  made  !"  was  all  that  Phips  could  say.  In 
the  course  of  a  few  days  treasure  was  recovered  to  the  amount  of 
a  million  and  a  half  of  dollars. 

In  1687  Phips  reached  England,  surrendered  his  treasure  to 
his  employers,  paid  the  seamen  their  promised  gratuity,  and  took 
for  his  own  share  a  nice  little  fortune  of  eighty  thousand  dollars. 
In  consideration  of  his  integrity,  King  James  made  the  New  En- 
gland sea-captain  a  knight,  and  thenceforward  he*was  known  as 
Sir  William  Phips.  He  was  desired,  also,  to  remain  in  England, 


I 

SIR  WILLIAM  rHirS.  185 

but  his  heart  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic ;  so  he  shipped 
his  fortune,  and  packed  up  a  golden  cup,  worth  five  thousand  dol- 
lars, which  the  Duke  of  Albemarle  sent  to  his  wife,  and  once  more 
returned  to  his  native  land.  Prior  to  his  departure,  he  interest- 
ed himself  with  the  king  to  obtain  a  restitution  of  rights  to  his 
fellow-countrymen,  but  without  success.  He  succeeded,  however, 
in  gaining  a  commission  as  high  sheriff  of  New  England,  and  re- 
turned with  the  patriotic  object  of  exercising  any  power  he  might 
possess  to  the  advantage  of  his  fellow-countrymen. 

The  first  thing  he  did  on  his  return  was  to  gratify  his  wife's 
ambition,  and  fulfill  the  other  condition  of  his  youthful  prediction, 
namely,  to  build  "a  fair  brick  house  in  Green  Lane."  After 
this  he  tried  to  exercise  his  powers  as  sheriff,  but  the  governor 
of  the  colony  opposed  him,  and,  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts,  he  was 
unable  to  enter  upon  a  discharge  of  the  duties  intrusted  to  him  by 
King  James.  Naturally  indignant  at  this  slight  of  a  royal  patent, 
he  determined  on  undertaking  another  voyage  to  England,  and  in 
1687  arrived  in  that  country.  He  found  things  much  changed. 
His  old  patron,  King  James,  had  been  driven  from  the  throne  by 
an  indignant  people,  and  William  and  Mary  reigned  in  his  place. 
From  politic  motives,  the  latter  were  friendly  to  Phips,  sympa- 
thized with  him,  and  offered  him  the  governorship  of  New  En- 
gland ;  but  this  he  declined.  Seeing  that  there  was  no  other  im- 
mediate prospect  for  him,  and  unwilling  to  sacrifice  his  time  in 
unavailing  attendance  at.  court,  he  returned  to  America  in  the 
summer  of  1689.  An  Indian  war,  fomented  by  the  French,  was 
waging,  and,  although  unfamiliar  with  military  life,  Phips  volun- 
teered his  services.  He  was  not  immediately  employed,  but  bis 
patriotism  was  understood  and  appreciated.  It  became  necessa- 
ry to  deal  the  French  a  severe  blow,  in  order  to  put  a  stop  to  the 
encouragement  they  were  constantly  giving  the  Indians.  For  this 
purpose,  the  General  Court,  in  January,  1690,  issued  the  follow- 
ing order :  "  For  the  encouragement  of  such  gentlemen  and  mer- 
chants of  this  colony  as  shall  undertake  to  reduce  Penobscot,  St. 
John's,  and  Port  Royal,  it  is  ordered  that  they  shall  have  two 
sloops  of  war  for  three  or  four  months  at  free  cost,  and  all  the 
profits  which  they  can  make  from  our  French  enemies,  and  the 
trade  of  the  places  which  they  may  take,  till  there  be  other  orders 
given  from  their  majesties."  This  offer  was  too  tempting  for  Sir 
William ;  once  more  he  offered  himself,  and  was  invested  with 


s 

186  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

the  command  of  all  the  forces  raised  for  the  expedition,  and  of 
the  shipping  and  seamen  employed  therein.  Sir  William's  in- 
structions were  too  curious  to  be  omitted  in  this  place.  He  was 
ordered  "  to  take  care  that  the  worship  of  God  be  maintained  and 
duly  observed  on  board  all  the  vessels ;  to  offer  the  enemy  fair 
terms  upon  summons,  which  if  they  obey,  the  said  terms  are  to  be 
duly  observed ;  if  not,  you  are  to  gain  the  best  advantage  you  may, 
to  assault,  kill,  and  utterly  extirpate  the  common  enemy,  and  to 
burn  and  demolish  their  fortifications  and  shipping ;  having  re- 
duced that  place,  to  proceed  along  the  coast,  for  the  reducing  of 
the  other  places  and  plantations  in  the  possession  of  the  French 
to  the  obedience  of  the  crown  of  England."  One  would  scarcely 
suppose  that  the  worship  of  God  was  compatible  with  the  killing 
and  utterly  extirpating  His  creatures. 

Phips  reached  Port  Royal  on  the  llth  of  May,  and  achieved 
an  easy  victory  over  the  surprised  and  unprepared  garrison.  He 
took  possession  in  the  name  of  the  English  government,  demol- 
ished the  fort,  and  administered  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  those 
who  were  prepared  to  take  it.  He  then  appointed  a  governor, 
left  a  small  garrison,  and  set  sail  on  his  return,  heavily  laden  with 
public  and  private  spoils.  On  his  way  home  he  landed  at  the 
various  settlements,  and  took  formal  possession  of  the  sea-coast 
from. Port  Royal  to  Penobscot.  The  entire  province  of  Acadia 
was  thus  subdued,  and  remained  in  possession  of  the  English  un- 
til its  restitution  in  1697.  On  his  return  Sir  William  was  elect- 
ed to  the  Board  of  Assistants. 

The  extremely  successful  issue  of  this  first  undertaking  against 
the  French  encouraged  the  colonists  to  pitch  into  their  neighbors 
on  a  still  larger  scale ;  and,  accordingly,  an  expedition  against 
Quebec  was  fitted  out,  the  command  of  which  was  intrusted  to 
Sir  William  Phips.  The  fleet  sailed  on  the  9th  of  August,  1690. 
It  was  divided  into  three  squadrons,  one  of  thirteen  vessels,  and 
two  of  nine  each.  They  proceeded  to  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence, and  arrived  there  in  safety,  but,  owing  to  ignorance  of  the 
stream,  their  progress  was  very  slow,  and  calculated  to  afford  the 
enemy  every  opportunity  for  preparing  elaborate  defenses.  At 
length  Phips  arrived  before  Quebec,  and  a  messenger  was  sent 
on  shore  with  a  summons  to  the  governor  to  surrender.  The 
messenger  barely  returned  with  his  life.  The  governor,  Fron- 
tenac,  indignant  at  the  request,  flung  the  letter  in  his  face,  and 


SIR  WILLIAM  FHIPS.  187 

shouted  out  fiercely  that  "  Sir  William  Phips  and  those  with  him 
were  heretics  and  traitors,  and  had  taken  up  with  that  usurper, 
the  Prince  of  Orange,  and  had  made  a  revolution,  which,  if  it  had 
not  been  made,  New  England  and  the  French  had  all  been  one ; 
and  that  no  other  answer  was  to  be  expected  from  him  but  what 
should  be  from  the  mouth  of  his  cannon." 

To  attack  a  fortified  city  requires  something  more  than  mere 
physical  bravery ;  it  demands  a  high  amount  of  military  knowl- 
edge, and  a  thorough  perception  of  accidental  advantage.  Phips 
was  entirely  ignorant  of  military  tactics,  and  therefore  gave  the 
command  of  the  land  forces  to  an  officer  who  boasted  of  greater 
knowledge,  himself  retaining  command  of  the  fleet.  After  innu- 
merable delays  a  landing  was  effected,  but  the  troops  were  badly 
supplied  with  ammunition  and  provisions,  and  were  hemmed  in 
and  starved  from  the  moment  they  first  set  foot  on  the  soil.  The 
French,  assisted  by  their  Indian  allies,  harassed  them  on  every 
side,  and  decimated  their  numbers  by  drawing  them  into  skirm- 
ishes which  led  to  no  result.  Phips  carried  his  ships  up  to  the 
town,  and  blazed  away  at  the  stone  walls  ;  but  the  stone  walls  re- 
fused to  tumble  down,  and  all  his  powder  was  expended  in  vain. 
The  enemy,  on  the  contrary,  poured  in  torrents  of  effective  shot. 
For  five  days  a  state  of  confusion  prevailed,  every  day  making 
matters  worse.  The  men  were  exhausted  and  dispirited,  for  they 
saw  that  both  their  commanders  were  incapable.  The  cold  weath- 
er began  to  freeze  their  limbs,  and  wound  them  more  cruelly  than 
the  sword.  Provisions  and  ammunitions  were  growing  scarcer 
and  scarcer,  and  every  thing  save  the  enemy  seemed  to  wear  a  look 
of  despair.  At  length  a  violent  storm  arose ;  many  of  the  ves- 
sels were  driven  from  their  anchorage,  and  the  remainder  availed 
themselves  of  the  opportunity  of  getting  out  of  the  river  as  speed- 
ily as  possible.  Thus  ended  the  expedition  against  Quebec.  Mis- 
fortunes pursued  the  fleet  even  at  sea.  The  weather  was  so 
stormy  that  the  vessels  could  not  be  kept  together.  One  ship 
was  never  heard  of  after  the  separation  ;  another  was  wrecked ; 
and  another — a  fire-ship — was  burned  at  sea.  Four  other  ves- 
sels were  blown  so  far  out  of  their  course  that  they  did  not  reach 
Boston  for  five  or  six  weeks  after  the  arrival  of  Phips. 

The  failure  of  the  expedition  was  a  great  blow  to  the  colonial 
government.  They  had  fitted  it  out  on  credit,  depending  on 
plunder  for  the  payment  of  the  soldiers  and  a  nice  little  profit  for 


188  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

themselves.  To  get  out  of  the  difficulty  with  the  best  grace  pos- 
sible, they  issued  paper  notes  on  the  faith  of  the  colony  It  was 
all  they  could  do,  for  there  was  no  money  in  the  treasury.  At 
first  it  was  supposed  this  ingenious  expedient  would  be  successful ; 
but  every  day  the  bills  sank  lower  and  lower  in  public  credit,  and 
the  poor  soldiers  who  had  been  paid  with  them  could  only  get 
fourteen  shillings  for  every,  pound  on  their  face. 

The  defeat  before  Quebec  rankled  in  Phips's  mind,  and,  as  there 
seemed  to  be  no  immediate  prospect  of  employment  in  the  colony, 
he  determined  on  another  voyage  to  England,  with  the  view  of 
inducing  the  king  to  fit  out  a  fresh  expedition  against  the  French. 
In  this  he  was  disappointed,  but  his  voyage  was  not  without  a 
result.  Increase  Mather  was  at  that  time  eagerly  agitating  the 
matter  of  a  new  charter  for  the  colony,  the  old  one  having  been 
taken  away  in  consequence  of  royal  displeasure,  and  the  colony 
being  thus  without  any  legal  guaranty  of  its  rights.  After  much 
vexatious  delay,  the  king  consented  to  the  issuing  of  another  char- 
ter on  condition  that  the  delegates  should  name  a  governor  known 
to  the  crown,  and  yet  popular  with  the  people  of  Massachusetts. 
If  he  had  wished  to  nominate  Phips,  he  could  not  have  more  accu- 
rately described  the  man.  Notwithstanding  his  Canadian  failure, 
he  was  still  eminently  popular  at  home,  and  his  curious  history 
was  well  known  abroad.  Increase  Mather,  on  behalf  of  the  other 
agents,  consequently  nominated  Phips,  and  a  commission  was  ac- 
cordingly prepared  under  the  great  seal,  by  which  Sir  William 
Phips  was  appointed  captain  general  and  governor-in-chief  of 
the  province  of  Massackusetts  Bay  in  New  England.  With  this 
document  in  his  pocket,  he  returned  to  his  native  country  in  May, 
1692.  On  the  following  Monday  he  was  conducted  from  his  own 
house  to  the  town-house  by  a  large  escort  of  military  and  a  num- 
ber of  the  principal  gentlemen  of  Boston  and  the  vicinity. 

Sir  William  Phips  was  a  very  unhappy  governor.  With  every 
disposition  in  the  world  to  be  lenient,  kind,  and  just,  he  found 
that  he  could  not  avoid  making  enemies.  The  new  charter  was 
not  considered  satisfactory,  and  Sir  William  Phips,  the  principal 
officer  under  it,  had  to  bear  all  the  odium  it  excited.  His  author- 
ity was  disputed  in  the  most  vexatious  way,  and  an  opposition 
sprung  up  which  daily  gained  strength.  There  were  other  men, 
too,  who  wanted  to  be  governor,  and  their  hostility,  having  a  direct 
object,  was  of  the  most  active  kind.  Sir  William  became  cross 


SIR  WILLIAM  PHIPS.  189 

with  the  world,  and  broke  out  into  wild  fits  of  passion,  all  of  which 
increased  his  unpopularity.  At  length  the  discontents  went  so 
far  as  to  petition  the  crown  that  he  might  be  removed,  and  an- 
other governor  appointed  in  his  stead.  Beside  this,  two  gentle- 
men, whom  Phips  had  thrashed  for  disputing  his  authority,  pre- 
ferred their  complaints  to  the  king,  and  the  Lords  of  the  Treas- 
ury, together  with  the  Board  of  Trade,  united  in  the  request  that 
the  governor  might  be  displaced.  The  king  refused  to  condemn 
the  governor  unheard,  but  invited  him  to  visit  England  and  de- 
fend himself.  Sir  William  accordingly  left  Boston  on  the  17th  of 
November,  1694,  and  proceeded  to  London.  It  was  the  last  time 
he  ever  crossed  the  Atlantic. 

On  his  arrival  he  was  subjected  to  fresh  annoyances,  such  as 
being  arrested  by  the  assaulted  gentlemen  before  mentioned,  and 
held  to  heavy  bail ;  but,  in  spite  of  these,  we  are  assured  by  Cotton 
Mather  that  he  was  triumphant  in  his  vindication,  and  received 
assurances  of  being  restored  to  office.  While  these  things  were 
going  on,  he  amused  himself  with  two  new  schemes  :  one  for  sup- 
plying the  English  navy  with  timber  and  naval  stores  from  the 
eastern  parts  of  New  England,  the  other  for  going  into  the  ship- 
wreck-fishing business  again.  The  prosecution  of  these  designs 
was,  however,  brought  to  an  unexpected  termination.  About  the 
middle  of  February,  1695,  he  took  cold,  and  was  immediately  con- 
fined to  his  chamber.  Fever  ensued,  and  on  the  18th  of  the  month 
he  died.  Few  men  in  the  world  have  had  more  experience  than 
Sir  William  Phips ;  yet  he  was  but  forty-five  years  of  age.  In 
that  brief  period  he  had  raised  himself  from  the  condition  of  a 
plowboy  to  the  highest  office  recognized  in  his  country,  from 
poverty  to  wealth,  from  insignificance  to  esteem.  In  the  words 
of  his  best  biographer,*  "  Fortune  befriended  him  only  when  he 
had  earned  her  favors  by  ceaseless  industry  and  the  most  indom- 
itable perseverance.  He  succeeded  in  enterprises  so  hopeless  at 
first  sight  that  men  of  sober  judgment  would  never  have  engaged 
in  them,  and  after  failures  and  discouragements  which  would  have 
caused  persons  of  ordinary  prudence  to  give  up  the  attempt  in 
despair.  He  enjoyed  a  large  fortune,  acquired  solely  by  his  own 
exertions  ;  but  he  was  neither  purse-proud,  parsimonious,  nor 
extravagant.  Far  from  concealing  the  lowness  of  his  origin,  he 

*  Francis  Bowen. 


190  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

made  it  a  matter  of  honest  pride  that  he  had  risen  from  the  busi- 
ness of  a  ship-carpenter  to  the  honors  of  knighthood  and  the  gov- 
ernment of  a  province.  Soon  after  he  was  appointed  to  the  chief 
magistracy,  he  gave  a  handsome  entertainment  to  all  the  ship- 
carpenters  of  Boston  ;  and,  when  perplexed  with  the  public  busi- 
ness, he  would  often  declare  that  it  would  be  easier  for  him  to  go 
back  to  his  broad-axe  again.  He  was  naturally  of  a  hasty  temper, 
and  was  frequently  betrayed  into  improper  sallies  of  passion,  but 
never  harbored  resentment  long.  Though  not  rigidly  pious,  he 
reverenced  the  offices  of  religion,  and  respected  its  ministers.  He 
was  credulous,  but  no  more  so  than  most  of  his  better-educated 
contemporaries.  The  mistakes  which  he  committed  as  a  public 
officer  were  palliated  by  perfect  uprightness  of  intention,  and  by 
an  irreproachable  character  in  private  life ;  for  even  his  warmest 
opponents  never  denied  him  the  title  of  a  kind  husband,  a  sincere 
patriot,  and  an  honest  man." 


DANIEL  BOONE. 

DANIEL  BOONE,  the  mighty  hunter  of  the  West,  and  pioneer  of 
Kentucky,  was  born  in  Bucks  County,  Pennsylvania,  in  the  month 
of  February,  1735.  His  parents  were  of  English  birth,  and  Dan- 
iel was  the  sixth  of  a  family  of  eleven  children.  Of  education  he 
received  but  little,  at  least  of  the  kind  then  taught  in  the  hedge 
schools  of  the  frontier  settlements.  Perhaps  book-knowledge  was 
of  less  value  to  him  than  that  other  knowledge  which  he  seems 
to  have  picked  up  from  his  earliest  youth,  namely,  the  knowledge 
of  directing  the  rifle  with  unerring  precision,  of  observing  the 
habits  of  wild  beasts,  and  of  noting  the  least  indication  of  the  ap- 
proach or  presence  of  an  Indian.  At  a  time  when  the  only  guar- 
anty of  a  man's  life  was  his  ability  to  keep  it,  these  points  of  a 
practical  education  were  all  important. 

When  Daniel  was  in  his  eighteenth  year  he  removed  with  his 
parents  to  North  Carolina,  and  settled  on  the  waters  of  the  Yad- 
kin,  where  he  had  ampte  opportunities  for  indulging  his  favor- 
ite pastime,  and  found  plenty  of  game  to  reward  his  expertness. 
Here,  also,  he  married.  There  is  a  pretty  little  story  which  says 
that  Boone  was  out  hunting  one  day,  and  saw  in  a  thicket  before 
him  what  he  supposed  to  be  the  large  beautiful  eyes  of  a  deer.  In 


192  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

an  instant  the  rifle  was  at  his  shoulder,  and  in  another  the  trigger 
would  have  been  drawn  but  for  a  terrified  little  scream,  which 
admonished  the  hunter  that  he  was  wrong  in  his  game  this  time. 
Presently  a  charming  girl,  with  large,  flashing  hazel  eyes,  started 
from  the  bush.  Boone  spoke  to  her,  and  found  that  her  name 
was  Rebecca  Bryan.  This  was  the  lady  whom  he  subsequently 
married ;  but  the  story  (which  is  very  delightful)  is  only  a  story, 
and  has,  we  are  sorry  to  say,  no  foundation  in  exact  truth. 

When  a  man  gets  married  he  wants  to  stay  at  home,  and  make 
himself  comfortable  in  the  society  of  his  wife,  if  not  for  good,  cer- 
tainly for  a  time ;  so  Boone  adopted  the  calling  of  a  farmer  for 
several  years,  and  only  used  his  gun  around  the  farm.  Occasion- 
ally, however,  he  made  an  excursion  with  a  party  of  hunters  into 
the  wilderness,  where  the  abundance  of  game  made  it  profitable 
to  do  so.  These  excursions  afforded  him  the  keenest  enjoyment. 
Apart  from  the  pleasure  which  every  man  must  feel  in  the  exer- 
cise of  unusual  skill,  and  which  is  especially  keen  in  a  sportsman, 
Boone  possessed  a  genuine  love  of  nature,  and  delighted  in  view- 
ing her  in  her  primeval  splendor.  Such  natures  require  space; 
they  can  not  breathe  in  crowded  settlements ;  the  approach  of  a 
mixed  population  with  its  class  distinctions  is  horrible  to  them. 

In  1767,  John  Finley,  a  famous  backwoods  hunter,  made  an 
excursion  along  the  waters  of  the  Kentucky  River,  and  returned 
with  glowing  accounts  of  what  he  had  seen.  These  were  suffi- 
cient for  Boone,  who  already  began  to  feel  that  he  was  crowded 
in  North  Carolina.  He  determined  to  explore  the  new  country, 
and  settle  there  if  it  equaled  the  vivid  picture  he  had  drawn  in  his 
mind.  A  party  of  six  was  formed,  but  much  time  elapsed  before 
the  hunters  were  ready  to  start,  and  it  was  not  until  June,  1769, 
that  they  reached  the  waters  of  the  Red  River,  and  encamped 
somewhere  within  the  boundaries  of  the  present  Morgan  County. 
In  this  vicinity  the  party  hunted  with  much  success  until  Decem- 
ber, and  without  encountering  any  Indians.  Feeling  more  at  ease 
from  this  circumstance,  it  was  now  proposed  to  divide  the  mem- 
bers of  the  party,  so  that  they  might  cover  a  greater  expanse  of 
ground.  Boone  and  a  companion  started  in  the  direction  of  the 
main  Kentucky  River,  and  had  nearly  reached  its  banks,  when 
they  were  suddenly  set  upon  by  a  band  of  Indians,  who  rushed 
out  of  a  cane-brake  and  made  them  prisoners.  This  was  the  pen- 
alty of  the  over-security  they  had  permitted  themselves  to  feel. 


DANIEL  BOOXE.  193 

The  Indians  robbed  them  of  all  they  possessed,  and  detained  them 
for  seven  days,  but  treated  them  with  hospitality,  evidently  in- 
tending to  receive  them  into  their  tribe  ;  but  Boone  and  his  com- 
panion were  not  eager  for  this  distinction,  and  they  availed  them- 
selves of  the  first  opportunity  to  make  their  escape.  One  night, 
when  the  Indians  were  quietly  slumbering  round  their  fires,  Boone 
signaled  to  Stewart,  his  companion,  that  the  moment  had  arrived. 
They  crept  stealthily  into  the  darkness  of  the  forest,  and  never 
paused  or  rested  until  they  had  reached  their  old  hunting-camp. 
Here  they  expected  to  find  their  companions,  but,  to  their  amaze- 
ment and  distress,  they  were  nowhere  to  be  seen,  and  the  spot 
furnished  abundant  indications  of  having  been  visited  by  the  In- 
dians and  plundered.  Of  the  fate  of  this  party  nothing  is  known. 
It  was  never  heard  of  more. 

Now  that  they  knew  they  were  in  the  country  of  enemies,  they 
had  to  proceed  with  the  greatest  caution.  One  day,  while  they 
were  looking  around  for  game,  they  discerned  the  figures  of  two 
men  coming  toward  them.  Both  parties  were  immediately  on 
their  guard.  Boone  shouted,  "  Hilloa,  strangers,  who  are  you  ?" 
"  White  men  and  friends,"  was  the  reply.  The  next  moment,  to 
his  extreme  surprise  and  joy,  he  recognized  the  well-known  feat- 
ures of  his  brother  and  another  adventurer  from  North  Carolina. 
They  were  on  an  exploring  expedition,  and  had  been  following 
Boone  with  news  from  his  family  and  a  supply  of  powder  and  lead. 
The  accession  to  the  strength  of  the  little  party  was  particularly 
acceptable  at  the  present  moment,  but,  unhappily,  it  did  not  afford 
them  any  additional  protection.  Boone  and  Stewart,  on  a  second 
excursion  from  the  camp,  were  again  set  upon  by  a  party  of  In- 
dians. Boone  succeeded  in  effecting  his  escape,  but  Stewart  was 
shot  in  the  attempt,  and  scalped.  Shortly  afterward,  the  hunter 
whom  Boone's  brother  had  brought  with  him  from  North  Carolina 
was  missing.  Nothing  was  heard  of  his  fate  for  some  time.  At 
length  a  decayed  skeleton  and  some  fragments  of  clothing  were 
discovered  near  a  swamp.  They  were  supposed  to  be  his  remains, 
but  the  cause  of  his  death  has  ever  remained  a  mystery.  The  two 
brothers  were  now  alone  in  the  forest,  and  lived  and  hunted  in 
safety  through  the  winter.  They  found  abundance  of  game,  and 
consequently  plenty  of  occupation  for  their  guns  and  their  knives. 
When  the  warm  breezes  of  spring  unlocked  the  earth,  Daniel  de- 
termined on  sending  his  brother,  Squire  Boone,  to  North  Carolina 

I 


194  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

for  supplies,  while  he  remained  to  protect  the  peltry  and  increase 
the  stock.  The  journey  was  over  five  hundred  miles,  and  it  WHS 
not  until  the  end  of  July  that  Squire  returned,  bringing  with  him 
good  news  from  home,  a  couple  of  horses,  and  an  ample  supply  of 
all  necessaries.  In  the  mean  time,  Daniel  had  made  an  exploring 
tour  to  the  southwest,  and  he  ascertained  on  his  return  that  the 
Indians  had  paid  him  a  visit.  The  brothers  were  convinced  that 
if  they  remained  they  would  assuredly  fall  into  the  hands  of  some 
straggling  party  of  hunters,  and  perhaps  perish  beneath  their  bru- 
tal scalping-knives.  To  avert  such  an  unpleasant  fate,  they  made 
up  their  minds  to  vacate  their  present  quarters,  and  seek  a  more 
secure  spot  on  the  Cumberland  River.  They  placed  all  their 
possessions  upon  the  backs  of  horses,  and  took  their  departure ; 
but,  after  traversing  most  of  the  Cumberland  region  (which  they 
found  liilly  and  indifferently  stocked  with  game),  they  returned  in 
a  northeastern  direction  to  the  Kentucky  River,  and  selected  a  site 
where  they  determined  to  establish  a  settlement.  From  the  first 
it  had  been  Daniel's  intention  to  bring  on  his  wife  and  family  so 
soon  as  he  felt  justified  in  doing  so.  The  moment  had  now  arrived. 
After  an  absence  of  two  years,  he  turned  homeward,  heavily  lad- 
en with  peltry,  and  accompanied  by  his  brother.  During  that 
time  he  had  neither  tasted  bread  nor  salt,  and  had  seen  no  hu- 
man faces  except  those  of  his  brother  and  companions,  and  of  the 
Indians  who  made  him  prisoner.  He  arrived  in  safety  at  Yad- 
kin,  and  made  preparations  for  speedy  return  to  the  forest ;  but, 
in  spite  of  all  his  exertions,  two  years  elapsed  before  he  was  in  a 
position  to  make  a  start.  "  On  the  25th  of  September,  1773," 
says  Mr.  Peck,  in  his  biography  of  Daniel  Hoone,  "  the  two  broth- 
ers bade  adieu  to  their  friends  and  neighbors  on  the  Yadkin.  and 
entered  on  the  perilous  task  of  traversing  the  wilderness  to  the 
banks  of  the  Kentucky.  A  drove  of  pack-horses  carried  their 
bedding,  clothing,  provisions,  and  other  necessaries ;  a  number  of 
milch  cows,  with  some  young  cattle  and  swine,  were  intended  to 
constitute  the  herd  of  the  western  wilderness.  At  Powell's  Val- 
ley, through  which  their  route  lay,  they  were  joined  by  forty  fam- 
ilies and  forty  men,  all  well  armed.  This  accession  of  strength 
gave  them  courage,  and  the  party  advanced  full  of  hope  and  con- 
fident of  success.  At  night  they  encamped,  as  is  still  the  custom 
of  emigrating  parties  throughout  the  vast  West.  The  camping- 
place  is  near  some  spring  or  water-course ;  temporary  shelters  are 


DANIEL  BOONE.  195 

made  by  placing  poles  in  a  sloping  position,  with  one  end  resting 
on  the  ground,  the  other  elevated  on  forks.  On  these,  tent-cloth, 
prepared  for  the  purpose,  or,  as  in  the  case  of  these  pioneers,  arti- 
cles of  bed-covering,  are  stretched.  The  fire  is  kindled  in  front 
against  a  fallen  tree  or  log,  toward  which  the  feet  are  placed  while 
sleeping.  If  the  ground  is  wet,  twigs  or  small  branches,  with 
leaves  and  dry  grass,  are  laid  under  the  beds.  Each  family  re- 
poses under  a  separate  cover,  and  the  clothing  worn  by  day  is  sel- 
dom removed  at  night." 

In  this  way  the  train  proceeded  without  an  incident  until  the 
6th  of  October.  The  pioneers  were  then  approaching  the  roman- 
tic mountain  opening  called  the  Cumberland  Gap.  Seven  young 
men  who  had  charge  of  the  cattle  were  lagging  behind  some  six 
or  seven  miles,  when  suddenly  they  were  attacked  by  the  Indians ; 
six  of  the  number  were  instantly  killed,  and  the  seventh,  who  was 
wounded,  barely  succeeded  in  making  good  his  escape.  In  the 
noise  and  confusion  of  the  struggle  the  cattle  dispersed  in  the 
forest.  Such  a  calamity  at  such  a  moment  was  irreparable.  It 
struck  dismay  into  the  hearts  of  the  pidneers,  and,  in  spite  of 
Boone's  entreaties,  they  refused  to  go  on  for  the  present.  The 
expedition  was  consequently  abandoned,  and  the  party  retired 
to  the  settlements  of  Clinch  River,  Virginia,  to  recruit.  The 
following  summer,  Boone  received  a  message  from  Governor 
Dunmore,  requesting  him  to  proceed  to  the  wilderness  of  Ken- 
tucky in  search  of  some  surveyors  who  were  believed  to  be  either 
lost  or  in  danger  of  being  so.  In  company  with  another  hunter, 
he  undertook  this  task,  and  accomplished  it  successfully.  He  was 
absent  sixty-two  days,  and  traveled  eight  hundred  miles  on  foot. 

In  the  spring  of  the  year  1775,  Boone  was  employed  by  a  com- 
pany of  land  speculators  (who  imagined  they  had  secured  a  valid 
title  to  the  land  in  Kentucky  by  virtue  of  a  deed  of  purchase  from 
the  Cherokees)  to  survey  and  lay  out  roads  in  Kentucky.  He 
was  placed  at  the  head  of  a  body  of  well-armed  men,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  his  work  with  great  willingness.  The  party  had  arrived 
within  fifteen  miles  of  Boonesborough,  when  they  were  fired  on 
by  Indians,  and  suffered  a  loss  of  two  killed  and  two  wounded. 
Three  days  later  they  were  again  attacked,  and  had  two  killed 
and  three  wounded.  Boone  was  not  the  sort  of  man  to  be  deterred 
by  a  calamity  even  of  this  severe  kind.  He  pressed  forward,  and 
on  a  favorable  site  erected  a  fort  (called  Boonesborough),  sum- 


l;)G  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ciently  strong  and  large  to  afford  protection  against  any  further 
attack.  He  was  so  well  satisfied  with  its  security,  that,  shortly 
afterward,  he  returned  to  Clinch  River  for  his  wife  and  family. 
They  arrived  safely,  his  "wife  and  daughters  being  the  first  white 
women  that  ever  stood  on  the  banks  of  the  Kentucky  River."  A 
number  of  families  followed  their  example,  and  the  little  place 
soon  became  cheerful  and  populated.  The  Indians  did  not  venture 
to  attack  the  settlers  so  long  as  they  remained  within  sight  of  the 
fort,  but  it  was  very  well  known  that  they  hovered  about  the  out- 
skirts, ready  for  a  descent  on  any  unhappy  wight  who  might  ex- 
pose himself  unguardedly  to  their  vengeance.  The  men  were  sus- 
picious and  careful,  and  never  went  out  without  their  rifles.  In 
spite  of  these  precautions,  a  most  thrilling  and  tragic  incident  oc- 
curred. On  the  14th  of  July,  1776,  three  young  girls  belonging 
to  the  fort  (one  of  them  was  Boone's  daughter)  heedlessly  crossed 
the  river  in  a  canoe  late  in  the  afternoon.  When  they  got  to  the 
other  side  they  commenced  playing  and  splashing  with  the  paddles, 
as  gay  young  girls,  unconscious  of  danger,  might  naturally  do,  un- 
til the  canoe,  floating  with  the  current,  drifted  close  to  the  shore, 
which  at  this  part  was  thickly  covered  with  trees  and  shrubs. 
Concealed  in  this  natural  ambuscade  lay  three  savage  Indians. 
They  had  been  watching  every  motion  of  the  girls,  and  were  pre- 
pared now  to  seize  their  opportunity.  One  of  the  coppery  rascals 
dropped  stealthily  into  the  stream,  caught  hold  of  the  rope  that 
hung  from  the  bow  of  the  canoe,  and  drew  it  out  of  view  of  the  fort. 
The  girls,  aroused  to  a  sense  of  their  danger,  screamed  as  loud 
as  they  could,  and  were  heard  at  the  fort ;  but,  before  assistance 
could  come,  their  captors  hurried  them  on  shore  and  bore  them  to 
the  interior.  "Next  morning  by  daylight,"  says  Colonel  Floyd, 
who  was  one  of  the  actors  in  what  he  describes,  "  we  were  on  the 
track,  but  found  they  had  totally  prevented  our  following  them  by 
walking  some  distance  apart  through  the  thickest  canes  they  could 
find.  We  observed  their  course,  and  on  which  side  they  had  left 
their  sign,  and  traveled  upward  of  thirty  miles.  We  then  imagined 
that  they  would  be  less  cautious  in  traveling,  and  made  a  turn  in 
order  to  cross  their  trace,  and  had  gone  but  a  few  miles  before  we 
found  their  tracks  in  a  buffalo  path ;  pursued  and  overtook  them 
on  going  about  ten  miles,  just  as  they  were  kindling  a  fire  to  cook. 
Our  study  had  been  more  to  get  the  prisoners,  without  giving  tin- 
Indians  time  to  murder  them,  after  they  discovered  us,  than  to  kill 
them. 


DANIEL  BOONE.  197 

"  We  discovered  each  other  nearly  at  the  same  time.  Four  of 
us  fired,  and  all  rushed  on  them,  which  prevented  them  from  car- 
rying away  any  thing  except  one  shot-gun  without  ammunition. 
Mr.  Boone  and  myself  had  a  pretty  fair  shoot  just  as  they  began 
to  move  oif.  I  am  well  convinced  I  shot  one  through,  and  the 
one  he  shot  dropped  his  gun ;  mine  had  none.  The  place  was 
very  thick  with  canes,  and  being  so  much  elated  on  recovering 
the  three  little  broken-hearted  girls  prevented  our  making  far- 
ther search.  We  sent  them  off  without  their  moccasins,  and  not 
one  of  them  with  so  much  as  a  knife  or  a  tomahawk."  The  sim- 
plicity of  this  narrative  exceeds  its  clearness,  but,  with  all  its  in- 
volutions, is  it  not  graphic,  and  does  it  not  convey  an  excellent 
idea  of  the  rough  indifference  to  danger  so  characteristic  of  true 
pioneer  life  1 

After  this  it  was  necessary  to  be  doubly  watchful,  for  the  In- 
dians became  more  aggressive,  and  apprehensions  were  felt  that  a 
general  attack  would  be  made  on  the  fort  and  stations.  These 
fears  appeared  to  be  so  well  founded,  that  it  was  only  the  oldest 
and  bravest  of  the  pioneers  who  could  withstand  their  influence. 
The  land  speculators  and  other  adventurers,  to  the  number  of 
nearly  three  hundred,  left  the  country,  and  new-comers,  although 
prepared  for  danger,  were  with  difficulty  prevailed  upon  to  re- 
main. The  year  1777  passed  in  this  gloomy  way,  marked  only 
by  frequent  attacks  on  the  various  stations  by  the  Indians.  Two 
attempts  were  made  on  the  fort,  but  each  time  the  besiegers 
were  beaten  off.  The  brave  little  garrison  lost  two  men  killed 
and  five  wounded.  With  all  means  of  transit  cut  off  by  their 
wary  foes,  great  privations  were  necessarily  suffered  by  the  little 
band.  The  immediate  necessaries  of  life  they  could  of  course 
procure,  but  some  articles  which  were  essential  to  the  preserva- 
tion of  health  they  were  without.  This  was  especially  the  case 
with  regard  to  salt.  Boone,  while  in  the  wilderness,  could  do 
without  this  article  of  luxury,  but  the  families  in  the  fort  sorely 
felt  its  need,  and  all  kinds  of  efforts  were  made  to  obtain  a  sup- 
ply. At  length  it  was  determined  to  fit  out  an  expedition,  con- 
sisting of  thirty  men,  with  Boone  at  its  head,  to  effect  this  desira- 
ble object.  It  was  necessary  to  proceed  to  the  Lower  Blue  Licks, 
on  Licking  River,  and  there  manufacture  the  article,  which,  in  due 
course,  was  to  be  forwarded  by  pack-horses  to  the  fort.  The  en- 
terprise, which  seemed  at  first  to  promise  success,  cost  Boone  and 


198  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

his  companions  their  liberty.  One  day,  while  hunting  a  short 
distance  from  his  comrades,  he  was  surprised  by  a  party  of  In- 
dians, one  hundred  and  two  in  number.  He  attempted  to  escape, 
but  their  swiftest  runners  were  put  on  his  trail,  and  he  soon  aban- 
doned all  idea  of  doing  so.  The  sagacity  and  presence  of  mind 
of  the  old  hunter  had  now  to  be  exercised.  He  parleyed  with 
the  Indians,  professed  all  sorts  of  friendship  for  them,  succeeded 
in  gaining  their  confidence,  and  finally  made  honorable  terms  for 
the  surrender  of  his  men',  who  became  prisoners  of  war.  Boone 
has  been  blamed  for  not  offering  resistance,  but  a  moment's  reflec- 
tion will  demonstrate  that  the  course  he  pursued  was  the  wisest 
and  safest.  Had  he  offered  resistance,  his  little  band  would  have 
been  overpowered,  and  the  next  point  of  attack  would  have  been 
the  fort,  which,  from  the  absence  of  the  garrison,  would  have  been 
entirely  at  the  mercy  of  the  savages.  To  avert  a  certain  massa- 
cre, he  surrendered  his  men,  after  having  made  excellent  condi- 
tions for  the  safety  of  their  lives.  "The  generous  u«ige  the  In- 
dians had  promised  before,  in  my  capitulation,"  says  Boone,  "  was 
afterward  fully  complied  with,  and  we  proceeded  with  them  as 
prisoners  to  Old  Chilicothe,  the  principal  Indian  town  on  Little 
Miami,  where  we  arrived,  after  an  uncomfortable  journey  in  very 
severe  weather,  on  the  18th  of  February,  and  received  as  good 
treatment  as  prisoners  could  expect  from  savages.  On  the  10th 
day  of  March  following,  I  and  ten  of  my  men  were  conducted  by 
forty  Indians  to  Detroit,  where  we  arrived  on  the  30th  day,  and 
were  treated  by  Governor  Hamilton,  the  British  commander  at 
that  post,  with  great  humanity."  The  governor  endeavored  to 
obtain  Boone's  liberation  by  purchase,  but  his  captors  were  not 
willing  to  part  with  him.  He  had  so  ingratiated  himself  in  their 
good  graces  that  they  were  determined  to  have  him  for  a  chief, 
and  insisted  on  carrying  him  back  to  their  town  for  the  purpose 
of  adoption.  He  bade  farewell  to  his  friends  in  Detroit,  and,  un- 
der the  friendly  escort  of  his  pertinacious  admirers,  returned  to 
Chilicothe,  where  he  was  adopted  by  an  illustrious  individual  of 
the  name  of  Blackfish,  to  supply  the  place  of  a  deceased  son  and 
warrior.  He  was  treated  with  great  kindness,  and  in  a  short 
time  became  universally  popular.  He  was  careful  to  avoid  all 
cai.se  for  suspicion,  and  to  appear  constantly  happy,  although, 
of  course,  he  was  forever  dreaming  of  his  wife  and  family,  and 
praying  for  the  happy  day  that  should  enable  him  to  escape  to 


DANIEL  BOONE.  199 

them.  Early  in  the  following  June  he  was  taken  to  the  Salt 
Springs,  on  the  Scioto,  to  assist  in  making  salt.  On  his  return, 
he  was  alarmed  to  see  a  fearful  array  of  four  hundred  and  fifty 
warriors,  and  still  more  so  when  he  discovered  that  they  were 
bound  on  an  expedition  against  Boonesborough.  He  determined 
to  effect  his  escape,  and,  on  the  following  morning,  the  IGth  of 
June,  1778,  he  arose  and  went  forth  as  usual  without  exciting 
suspicion.  He  never  returned,  and  Blackfish  had  to  adopt  an- 
other son.  Boone  succeeded  in  reaching  the  fort  in  safety.  His 
sudden  appearance  greatly  astonished  the  people  there,  for  they 
had  given  him  up,  and  his  wife,  with  some  of  the  children,  had 
actually  departed  for  North  Carolina.  Not  a  moment  was  to  be 
lost  in  making  the  necessary  preparations  for  the  defense  of  the 
settlement.  The  fort,  which  had  fallen  into  a  very  rickety  condi- 
tion, was  put  in  thorough  repair,  and  the  garrison  mustered  and 
drilled  so  as  to  be  in  perfect  readiriess.  The  Indians,  however, 
changed  their  minds.  Alarmed,  probably,  at  the  escape  of  Boone, 
they  postponed  their  expedition  for  three  weeks,  but,  in  the  mean 
time,  they  made  some  additions  to  their  strength  in  the  shape  of 
French  and  Canadian  officers.  On  the  7th  of  September,  the  In- 
dian army,  numbering  four  hundred  and  forty-four,  with  Captain 
Duquesne  and  eleven  other  Canadians,  appeared  before  Boones- 
borough. The  Indians  were  commanded  by  Boone's  would-be 
father-in-law,  Mr.  Blackfish,  and  the  Canadians  by  Captain  Du- 
quesne. When  this  alarming  force  had  assembled  before  the  un- 
happy little  fort,  a  summons  was  issued  to  "  surrender,  in  the 
name  of  his  Britannic  majesty."  The  garrison  consisted  of  be- 
tween sixty  and  seventy  men,  and  a  large  number  of  women  and 
children.  If  they  had  surrendered  it  would  have  been  nothing 
remarkable,  but  they  did  not  even  think  of  doing  such  a  thing. 
Boone  expected  re-enforcements  from  Holston,  and  it  became  nec- 
essary, therefore,  to  procure  as  much  delay  as  possible.  For  this 
purpose,  he  -desired  that  he  might  have  two  days  to  consider  the 
proposition  of  his  Britannic  majesty.  Strange  as  it  may  appear, 
this  proposition  was  acceded  to.  About  five  minutes  were  suffi- 
cient for  the  garrison  to  arrive  at  a  determination,  and  this  was  that 
they  would  fight  it  out  to  the  last.  All  the  cows  and  horses  were 
collected  within  the  fort,  and  every  vessel  filled  with  water  from 
the  spring,  the  latter  task  being  performed  by 'the  ladies.  When 
the  hour  arrived  for  giving  an  answer  to  bold  Captain  Duquesne, 


200  SKLF-MAUE  MEN. 

it  was  done  in  this  wise  by  Boone  :  "  We  laugh  at  your  formida- 
ble preparations,  but  thank  you  for  giving  notice  and  time  to  pre- 
pare for  defense."  Captain  Duquesne  was  not  incensed  at  this 
reply,  but  still  insisted  on  a  capitulation.  "  He  declared  his  or- 
ders from  Colonel  Hamilton  were  to  take  the  garrison  captives, 
to  treat  them  as  prisoners  of  war,  and  not  to  injure,  much  less  to 
murder  them ;  and  that  they  had  horses  to  take  the  women  and 
children,  and  all  others  who  could  not  bear  the  fatigue  of  travel- 
ing on  foot.  He  then  proposed  that,  if  the  garrison  would  de- 
pute nine  persons  to  come  out  of  the  fort  and  hold  a  treaty,  the 
terms  should  be  liberal.  It  is  impossible  at  this  time,  after  the 
demise  of  every  person  concerned  in  the  affair,  to  account  for  the 
singular  course  of  Captain  Duquesne  and  his  Indian  allies."* 

Although  Duquesne's  affectionate  course  savored  of  treachery, 
Boone  thought  it  desirable  to  accede  to  his  proposition,  as  it  would 
at  least  secure  a  little  more  delay.  Nine  commissioners  were 
selected  for  the  purpose  of  discussing  the  treaty,  Boone  being  one 
of  the  number.  A  plot  of  ground  in  front  of  the  fort  was  selected 
for  the  conference,  all  parties  to  go  unarmed.  Before  leaving  for 
this  hazardous  interview,  Boone  took  the  precaution  to  place  a 
number  of  experienced  riflemen  in  advantageous  positions,  so  that, 
if  the  commissioners  retreated  hastily,  they  might  be  protected. 
The  parties  met,  and  the  treaty  proposed  was  of  the  most  liberal 
kind.  It  simply  demanded  that  the  residents  and  garrison  of  the 
fort  should  acknowledge  the  British  authorities,  and  take  the  oath 
of  allegiance  to  the  king ;  in  return  for  which  they  were  to  remain 
unmolested.  After  these  points  had  been  settled,  the  Indians 
proposed  that,  as  a  commemoration  of  the  joyous  occasion,  they 
should  revive  an  ancient  custom  of  their  tribe,  which  consisted  in 
two  Indians  shaking  hands  with  one  wliite  man  at  the  same  mo- 
ment. Boone  and  his  companions  knew  exactly  what  this  meant, 
but  they  did  not  betray  any  uneasiness.  Eighteen  stalwart,  mus- 
cular Indians  now  advanced,  and,  in  the  way  prescribed  by  the 
very  ancient  custom  before  mentioned,  endeavored  to  drag  off  the 
white  men.  But  the  iron  frames  of  the  pioneers  were  braced  for  a 
struggle.  Being  without  weapons,  they  appealed  to  their  Anglo- 
Saxon  knowledge  of  fisticuffs,  and  in  a  very  little  while  had  tum- 
bled the  red  villains  in  the  dust.  In  the  excitement  which  followed 
they  made  good  their  retreat  to  the  fort,  and  the  riflemen  imrne- 
*  Peck's  Life  of  Daniel  Boone. 


DANIEL  BOONE.      •  201 

diately  opened  a  murderous  fire  to  keep  off  the  pursuers.  Hos- 
tilities now  commenced  on  both  sides.  The  Indians  kept  up  a 
brisk  fire  at  the  fort,  but,  owing  to  its  favorable  situation,  could 
not  effect  much  mischief.  The  garrison,  on  the  contrary,  never 
fired  a  charge  without  an  especial  object.  A  regular  siege,  con- 
ducted in  the  usual  Indian  style,  was  kept  up  for  nine  days,  but 
with  no  result.  The  Kentuckians  never  flinched  for  a  moment. 
Even  the  women  assisted  in  the  defense,  for  they  loaded  the  rifles, 
moulded  bullets,  and  supplied  refreshments.  On  one  occasion  the 
fort  was  fired  by  the  enemy,  but  a  heroic  young  man  extinguished 
the  flames,  in  spite  of  a  shower  of  bullets  which  greeted  his  appear- 
ance with  the  buckets  on  the  roof.  Foiled  in  this,  the  Indians, 
under  the  direction  of  the  Canadians,  commenced  digging  a  mine  ; 
but  Boone  was  equal  to  this  emergency.  He  began  a  counter- 
mine, and  threw  all  the  dirt  into  their  works,  so  that  they  had  the 
pleasure  of  shoveling  it  away  before  they  could  make  the  slightest 
progress.  On  the  20th  of  September  they  raised  the  siege  and 
took  their  departure,  after  having  suffered  a  loss  of  thirty-seven 
killed  and  many  more  wounded.  The  loss  on  the  pioneer  side 
was  two  killed  and  four  wounded :  it  would  not  have  been  so 
great  but  for  the  desertion  of  a  vagabond  negro  who  went  over 
to  the  enemy,  carrying  with  him  an  excellent  rifle.  During  the 
siege,  this  rascal  placed  himself  in  a  tree  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river,  and  was  able,  owing  to  the  excellence  of  his  weapon,  to  fire 
into  the  fort.  He  had  killed  one  and  wounded  another,  when 
Boone  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  woolly  head.  It  was  sufficient ; 
the  next  moment  Sambo  rolled  from  the  tree.  After  the  retreat 
his  body  was  found,  and  in  the  centre  of  his  forehead  an  explana- 
tory hole  told  the  story  of  his  death.  The  old  hunter  brought  him 
down  at  a  distance  of  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  yards. 

During  the  autumn  of  this  year  Boone  rejoined  his  wife  and 
family  in  North  Carolina.  "  The  history  of  my  going  home  and 
returning  with  my  family  forms  a  series  of  difficulties,  an  account 
of  which  would  swell  a  volume."  The  principal  difficulty  to  which 
he  here  refers  was  the  loss  of  all  his  property  by  robbery.  With 
the  view  to  purchase  land  in  Kentucky,  he  converted  every  thing 
he  possessed  into  cash,  amounting  in  all  to  about  twenty  thousand 
dollars  paper  money.  With  this  he  started  for  Richmond,  where 
the  Court  of  Commissioners  was  held  (1779),  and  on  the  road  was 
robbed  of  the  whole.  The  event  was  additionally  distressing  to 

12 


202  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

him  from  the  fact  that,  in  addition  to  his  own  money,  he  had  va- 
rious sums  belonging  to  other  people,  who  had  intrusted  it  to  him 
for  the  same  purpose. 

After  this  misfortune,  Boone  returned  to  Boonesborough  in 
1780.  In  October  of  this  year,  he  and  his  brother  had  occasion 
to  visit  the  Blue  Licks,  and  on  their  return  were  fired  upon  by 
Indians.  His  brother  fell  a  victim,  and  was  scalped.  Boone, 
with  the  greatest  difficulty,  escaped.  Outrages  of  this  kind  were 
frequent,  and  it  became  daily  more  apparent  that  a  strong  blow 
had  to  be  struck  ere  the  security  of  the  settlers  could  in  the  least 
degree  be  insured.  The  Legislature  of  Virginia  took  the  matter 
in  hand  soon  after ;  divided  Kentucky  into  three  counties,  and 
effected  a  civil  and  military  organization.  John  Todd  was  made 
colonel,  and  Daniel  Boone  lieutenant  colonel  of  Lincoln  County. 
Each  county  was  expected  to  raise  a  regiment,  and  the  whole  force 
of  the  three  counties  was  placed  under  the  command  of  Brigadier 
General  Clark. 

It  was  not  long  before  this  force  was  brought  into  active  service. 
The  attack  on  Bryant's  Station  called  all  the  settlers  to  arms.  A 
large  number  of  Indians  had  made  an  unsuccessful  attack  on  that 
point,  and  it  was  now  determined  to  follow  up  the  advantage  by 
pursuing  the  Indian  army,  and,  if  possible,  destroying  it.  Colonel 
Boone,  with  his  son  Israel  and  his  brother  Samuel,  headed  a  strong 
party  from  Boonesborough,  and  Colonel  Todd  commanded  the 
militia  from  Lexington.  A  council  of  war  was  held,  and  Boone 
opposed  the  scheme  of  pursuit,  but  was  overruled.  Consequent- 
ly, the  forces  started,  and  were  soon  on  the  trail ;  but  no  Indians 
were  to  be  seen  until  they  reached  the  Lower  Blue  Licks.  A  few 
were  then  discovered  marching  over  a  ridge  on  the  opposite  side. 
Before  crossing  the  river,  Colonel  Todd  ordered  a  halt,  and  an- 
other conference  was  held,  at  which  Boone's  views  were  especially 
solicited.  They  were  now  at  the  spot  where,  some  years  before, 
Boone  and  his  companions  had  been  surprised  while  making  salt, 
and  he  was  thoroughly  familiar  with  every  crevice  and  rock  in 
the  neighborhood.  He  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  an  ambuscade 
was  prepared  for  them,  and,  if  they  crossed  the  ridge  where  they 
saw  the  Indians,  they  would  inevitably  fall  into  it  and  be  de- 
stroyed. If  they  were  determined  to  proceed,  he  gave  them  some 
sound  advice  about  the  division  of  the  troops,  so  that  the  enemy 
might  be  attacked  at  two  points  simultaneously. 


DANIEL  BOONE.  20"- 

Booue's  calmness  (the  result  of  a  remarkable  knowledge  of  the 
Indian  character)  appears  to  have  been  misconstrued  into  timidity. 
In  the  midst  of  his  deliberations,  an  officer  named  Major  M'Gary 
raised  the  war-whoop,  and,  addressing  the  troops,  said,  "Those 
who  are  not  cowards,  folloMpne ;  I  will  show  you  where  the  In- 
dians are."  In  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  two  thirds  of  the 
men  followed  this  dashing  but  indiscreet  leader,  and  the  remain- 
der soon  after  crossed  the  river.  Another  halt  was  ordered,  and 
scouts  were  sent  out  to  examine  the  ravine.  Not  an  Indian  was 
to  be  seen.  Boone  still  persisted  that  they  were  in  ambush,  but 
the  order  was  given  to  march,  and  the  troops  went  on  to  within 
forty  yards  of  the  ravine.  Here  they  received  the  first  intimation 
of  the  presence  of  an  enemy.  A  withering  volley  of  musketry 
poured  down  upon  them  from  every  side ;  Colonel  Trigg  and  a 
number  of  the  Harrodsburg  troops. fell  like  leaves  before  the  au- 
tumn wind.  Major  Harlan  then  advanced  with  his  company,  and 
was  swept  away  in  like  manner.  Only  three  of  the  entire  force 
remained  to  tell  the  story.  Colonel  Todd  shared  the  unhappy  fate 
of  his  comrades.  The  Indians  now  rushed  upon  the  remaining 
military  with  their  tomahawks,  and  a  precipitate  and  disorderly 
retreat  commenced.  Those  who  reached  the  river  endeavored  to 
cross,  but  were  still  pursued  by  the  Indians.  The  slaughter  was 
terrible.  The  Kentuckians,  escaping  over  a  bleak  rock,  were 
most  palpable  marks,  and  in  the  river,  as  they  strove  to  make  the 
opposite  shore,  they  were  scarcely  to  be  missed  by  an  Indian  eye. 
The  nearest  place  to  retreat  to  was  Bryan's  Station,  thirty-six 
miles  distant,  and  for  this  they  made  with  all  possible  expedition. 
Although  the  Indians  pursued  them  for  twenty  miles,  they  did  but 
little  execution  after  the  ford  had  been  crossed.  The  men  were 
no  longer  exposed  to  their  unerring  aim.  Boone  had  command 
of  the  left,  and  maintained  his  ground  until  the  panic  became 
general.  All  he  could  then  effect  was  to  preserve  as  many  lives 
as  possible  by  indicating  the  safest  means  of  retreat.  He  knew 
every  inch  of  ground,  and,  bearing  his  son  (who  was  mortally 
wounded)  across  his  breast,  he  made  for  a  part  ftf  the  river  where 
he  knew  he  could  cross  easily.  He  struck  into  the  current,  but 
before  he  could  reach  the  opposite  bank  his  son  had  expired. 
No  pen  can  describe  the  emotions  of  the  wretched  parent  as  he 
lay  panting  on  the  shore  with  the  dead  and  dripping  body  of  his 
child  before  him,  and  a  pack  of  fierce  savages  swimming  toward 


204  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

him  for  his  life.  They  were  so  quick  that  he  had  to  leave  the 
body  to  their  mercies  in  order  to  effect  his  own  escape.  Ex- 
hausted with  fatigue,  and  alone,  he  made  his  way  through  the 
wilderness  to  Bryan's  Station.  Here  he  discovered  that  Colonel 
Logan,  with  a  re-enforcement  of  four  hundred  and  fifty  men,  had 
arrived,  and  he  became  bitterly  conscious  of  the  unnecessary  horrors 
that  had  attended  the  rash  daring  of  his  companions.  Had  they 
listened  to  his  advice,  and  waited  for  this  re-enforcement,  they 
would  now  have  had  a  victory  to  triumph  over  instead  of  a  defeat 
to  lament.  At  a  late  hour  at  night,  Colonel  Logan  and  his  troops, 
accompanied  by  Boone,  started  once  more  for  the  battle-field.  The 
enemy  had  fled,  but  a  terrible  scene  presented  itself.  "Dead 
and  mutilated  bodies  were  strewn  through  the  scattering  timber, 
submerged  in  the  river,  and  spread  over  the  rocky  ridge.  Im- 
mense flocks  of  vultures  were  perched  in  the  trees,  hovering  in 
the  air,  or  moving  over  the  field  among  the  slain,  gorged  with  the 
horrid  repast.  The  savages  had  mangled  and  scalped  many ;  the 
wolves  had  torn  others ;  and  the  oppressive  heat  of  August  had 
so  disfigured  their  remains  that  the  persons  of  but  few  could  be 
distinguished  by  their  friends."  They  were  interred  with  as  much 
haste  as  possible,  for  Boone  was  still  apprehensive  that  the  Indians 
might  not  be  quite  off. 

The  intelligence  of  this  defeat  spread  rapidly  through  the  coun- 
try, and  produced  the  greatest  consternation  and  alarm.  Con- 
vinced of  the  necessity  for  an  immediate  blow,  General  George 
R.  Clark  made  arrangements  for  a  formidable  expedition  into  the 
Indian  country.  In  a  short  time  a  thousand  mounted  riflemen 
— all  volunteers — were  in  the  saddle,  and  eager  to  avenge  the 
slaughter  of  their  neighbors.  There  were  hundreds  of  others 
who  were  too  old,  or  otherwise  unable  to  go,  who  sent  all  sorts 
of  supplies,  to  testify  how  cordially  they  sympathized  with  the 
cause.  Bryan's  Station  was  selected  as  the  place  of  rendezvous 
for  the  upper  country,  and  the  Falls  of  the  Ohio  for  the  lower. 
The  troops  marched  with  immense  celerity  and  secrecy.  As  an 
evidence  of  the  Ifitter,  it  may  be  mentioned  that,  although  they 
were  passing  through  a  country  densely  stocked  with  game,  they 
suffered  from  hunger  rather  than  pull  a  trigger  to  give  the  alarm. 
So  rapid  were  they  in  their  movements  that  they  actually  overtook 
a  portion  of  the  Indian  army  on  its  way  home  from  the  Kentucky 
scene  of  blood.  A  couple  of  Indians  gave  the  alarm,  however, 


DANIEL  BOONE.  205 

and  empty  cabins  and  deserted  villages  were  all  the  volunteers 
could  find.  "The  savages  fled  in  the  utmost  disorder,"  writes 
Boone,  who  was  simply  a  volunteer  on  this  occasion,  and  held  no 
kind  of  commission,  "  evacuated  their  towns,  and  reluctantly  left 
their  territory  to  our  mercy."  Of  the  latter  they  received  but 
little ;  Old  Chilicothe  and  four  other  towns  were  razed  to  the 
ground,  the  Indian  crops  ruined,  and  the  country  rendered  deso- 
late. But  no  enemy  could  be  found.  "  In  this  expedition  we  took 
seven  prisoners  and  five  scalps,  with  the  loss  of  only  four  men, 
two  of  whom  were  accidentally  killed  by  our  own  army."  The 
blow  was  decisive,  however.  It  taught  the  Indians  that  to  defeat 
the  whites  in  an  ambuscade  was  not  to  gain  a  victory,  but  rather 
to  insure  a  speedy  and  terrible  revenge.  No  more  formidable  in- 
vasions of  Kentucky  occurred  after  this  demonstration,  although 
attacks  on  isolated  individuals  were  common  enough.  It  was  the 
last,  too,  in  which  Boone  was  engaged  for  the  defense  of  Kentucky. 
A  period  of  peace  now  smiled  on  the  harassed  settlers,  and 
they  were  at  liberty  once  more  to  return  to  their  farms  and  enjoy 
the  comforts  of  home.  Colonel  Boone,  from  the  proceeds  of  his 
military  pay,  purchased  several  locations  of  land,  on  one  of  which 
he  constructed  a  comfortable  log  house  and  cleared  a  farm.  For 
several  years  he  devoted  himself  to  this  peaceful  occupation,  and, 
by  industry  and  thrift,  secured  all  the  necessaries  and  many  of  the 
luxuries  of  frontier  life.  One  day,  while  he  was  looking  after  a 
small  crop  of  tobacco  which  he  had  raised  for  the  accommodation 
of  his  friends,  four  Indians,  with  guns  in  their  hands,  surprised 
him.  He  was  standing  on  the  top  of  a  little  building  which  had 
been  erected  for  the  purpose  of  drying  the  tobacco,  when  he  heard 
the  foremost  Indian  shout  out,  "  Now,  Boone,  we  got  you.  You 
no  get  away  more.  We  carry  you  you  off  to  Chilicothe  this  time. 
You  no  cheat  us  any  more."  Boone  looked  down,  and  saw  their 
ugly-looking  guns  and  still  more  ugly-looking  faces  without  losing 
a  particle  of  his  presence  of  mind.  He  recognized  four  of  the  men 
who  had  made  him  prisoner  at  the  Blue  Licks  in  1778,  and  to 
whose  tribe  he  was  inducted  by  the  late  lamented  Mr.  Blackfish. 
He  greeted  them  as  friends,  and  expressed  himself  delighted  at  the 
interview.  They  were  impatient  at  his  cool  politeness,  and  de- 
sired him  to  come  down.  He  replied  that  he  would  do  so  with 
the  utmost  dispatch,  but  begged  that  they  would  give  him  a  few 
moments  to  remove  his  tobacco,  so  that  it  might  not  be  spoiled. 


206  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

To  divert  their  attention,  he  entered  into  minute  inquiries  con- 
cerning the  health  of  his  former  Indian  comrades,  and  in  this 
way  gained  sufficient  time  to  gather  up  an  armful  of  dry  tobacco. 
When  he  had  done  this,  he  dropped  it  carefully  in  their  faces,  and 
followed  up  the  playfulness  by  leaping  bodily  on  them.  The  ras- 
cals began  to  sneeze  and  choke  with  the  dust,  and  in  their  confu- 
sion Boone  managed  to  escape  to  his  cabin.  After  this  incident 
he  appears  to  have  led  a  tranquil  life,  farming  with  great  industry, 
and  sporting  with  great  enthusiasm  at  the  proper  times. 

In  1792,  Kentucky  came  into  the  Federal  Union  as  a  sovereign 
state.  Its  population  was  rapidly  on  the  increase,  and  much 
eagerness  was  displayed  to  obtain  lands  by  immigrants.  Law- 
suits were  the  inevitable  consequence.  Titles  were  scrutinized 
with  the  greatest  severity,  and  the  slightest  defect  led  to  speedy 
ejectment,  Unfortunately'many  of  the  titles  granted  by  the  Vir- 
ginia commissioners  were  entirely  worthless,  and  this,  we  are  sor- 
ry to  add,  was  found  to  be  the  case  with  regard  to  the  land  held 
by  Boone.  The  home  he  had  defended  so  bravely  against  the 
savages  fell  beneath  the  more  subtle  warfare  of  the  lawyer.  He 
was  ejected.  In  his  old  age  he  found  himself  without  an  acre  of 
ground  that  he  could  call  his  own,  and  this  in  a  country  he  had 
explored  and  populated.  A  harder  case  can  not  be  imagined. 
Deeply  grieved,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  leave  the  state,  and  seek 
peace  and  plenty  elsewhere.  With  this  intention,  he  removed  to 
the  Kenhawa,  in  Virginia,  and  settled  on  that  river,  not  far  from 
Point  Pleasant.  During  his  short  residence  here  he  met  with 
some  hunters  who  were  just  returned  from  Upper  Louisiana,  and 
were  full  of  tales  of  the  vast  game  products  of  the  prairies.  The  old 
hunter  fired  at  their  narratives,  and  determined  to  emigrate  thith- 
er without  any  farther  delay.  It  is  said  that  he  made  particular 
inquiries  concerning  the  lawyers  of  the  Far  West  before  he  came 
to  this  determination.  In  1795  he  took  his  departure,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  the  district  of  St.  Charles,  about  forty-five  miles  west 
of  St.  Louis,  where  he  settled,  having  received  assurances  from  the 
Spanish  lieutenant  governor  that  ample  portions  of  land  should 
be  given  to  him  and  his  family.  In  1800,  the  lieutenant  govern- 
or, as  a  mark  of  distinction  and  friendship,  appointed  Boone  com- 
mandant of  the  Femme  Osage  District,  in  which  capacity  he  acted 
until  the  transfer  of  the  government  to  "the  United  States.  He 
appears  to  have  been  very  much  delighted  with  the  simple  habits 


DANIEL  BOONE.  207 

of  the  people  of  his  new  home.  Prior  to  the  transfer  we  have 
mentioned,  a  grant  of  land  was  made  to  Boone,  in  return  for  his 
official  services,  but,  owing  to  some  informality,  the  grant  was 
once  more  repudiated,  and  Boone  left  landless. 

In  1812,  by  the  advice  of  his  friends,  he  petitioned  Congress  to 
obtain  a  confirmation  of  his  claim,  and,  at  the  same  time,  sent  a 
memorial  to  the  General  Assembly  of  Kentucky,  begging  them  to 
use  their  influence  in  the  matter.  "This  memorial,"  says.  Mr. 
Peck,  "  contained  a  sketch  of  his  labors  in  the  wilderness,  and 
1  of  his  claims  to  the  remembrance  of  his  country  in  general.'  He 
spoke  of  '  his  struggles  in  the  fatal  fields  which  were  dyed  with 
the  blood  of  the  early  settlers,'  among  whom  were  his  two  eldest 
sons,  and  others  of  his  dearest  connections.  The  history  of  the 
settlement  of  the  Western  country,'  he  said,  '  was  his  history.' 
He  alluded  to  the  love  of  discovery  aftd  adventure  which  had  in- 
duced him  to  expatriate  himself, '  under  the  assurance  of  the  gov- 
ernor of  St.  Louis  that  ample  portions  of  land  should  be  given  to 
him  and  to  his  family.'  He  mentioned  the  allotment  of  land,  his 
failure  to  consummate  the  title,  and  his  unsuccessful  application 
to  the  commissioners  of  the  United  States.  Of  the  vast  extent 
of  country  which  he  had  discovered  and  explored, '  he  was  una- 
ble to  call  a  single  acre  his  own,'  and  '  he  had  laid  his  case  be- 
fore Congress.  Your  memorialist,'  he  added,  '  can  not  but  feel, 
so  long  as  feeling  remains,  that  he  has  a  just  claim  upon  his  coun- 
try for  land  to  live  on,  and  to  transmit  to  his  children  after  him. 
Pie  can  not  help,  on  an  occasion  like  this,  to  look  toward  Ken- 
tucky. From  a  small  acorn  she  has  become  a  mighty  oak,  fur- 
nishing shelter  to  upward  of  four  hundred  thousand  souls.  Very 
different  is  her  appearance  now  from  the  time  when  your  memo- 
rialist, with  his  little  band,  began  to  fell  the  forest,  and  construct 
the  rude  fortifications  at  Boonesborough.'  "  The  memorial  of  the 
worthy  old  pioneer  was  received  favorably  by  the  Legislature, 
who  reported  in  both  houses  without  a  division.  The  applica- 
tion to  Congress  was  equally  successful,  and  one  thousand  arpents 
of  land  (more  than  eight  hundred  acres)  were  confirmed  to  him 
in  the  Femme  Osage  District,  as  originally  granted  to  him  by  the 
Spanish  government. 

In  March,  1813,  Mrs.  Boone,  the  partner  and  sharer  of  all  his 
joys  and  dangers,  died  at  the  advanced  age  of  seventy-six.  Dan- 
iel was  still  a  hale,  hearty  old  man  when  this  occurred,  but  he 


208  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

viewed  with  perfect  tranquillity  the  approaching  close^  of  his  own 
earthly  career.  A  singular  fact  is  related  of  him.  Soon  after 
his  wife's  demise,  he  gave  directions  to  a  cabinet-maker  to  make 
a  coffin  of  black  walnut  for  himself.  This  was  done,  and  it  re- 
mained in  his  possession  for  some  time  ;  but,  fancying  that  it  was 
not  a  good  fit,  he  gave  it  away,  and  procured  another  of  cherry 
wood,  which  he  kept  under  his  bed  to  the  day  of  his  death.  He 
was  very  anxious  to  be  placed  beside  his  wife,  and  entered  into  a 
written  contract  with  a  companion,  who  usually  accompanied  him 
on  his  hunting  tours,  that,  should  he  die  in  the  wilderness,  he 
would  convey  the  body  to  the  cemetery  in  which  she  lay,  and 
there  inter  him.  His  passion  for  hunting  never  deserted  him, 
and  to  the  day  of  his  death  he  made  excursions  into  the  wilder- 
ness, seldom  visiting  the  same  place  twice,  or,  when  this  was  im- 
possible, amused  himself  with  repairing  rifles,  making  powder- 
horns,  etc.  In  his  domestic  relations  he  was  perfectly  happy, 
surrounded  with  a  large  family  of  grandchildren,  all  of  whom 
doted  on  the  hero,  and  vied  with  each  other  in  tendering  him 
every  attention  and  kindness.  On  the  26th  of  September,  1820, 
he.  departed  this  life,  in  the  eighty-sixth  year  of  his  age.  His  re- 
mains were  disposed  in  the  way  he  had  desired,  but,  a  quarter  of 
a  century  later,  they  were  removed,  together  with  those  of  his 
wife,  to  the  cemetery  at  Frankfort,  where  they  were  reinterred 
with  appropriate  ceremonies. 

"  The  life  of  Daniel  Boone,"  says  Governor  Morehead,  "  is  a 
forcible  example  of  the  powerful  influence  which  a  single  absorb- 
ing passion  exerts  over  the  destiny  of  an  individual.  Born  with 
no  endowments  of  intellect  to  distinguish  him  from  the  crowd  of 
ordinary  men,  and  possessing  no  other  acquirements  than  a  very 
common  education  bestowed,  he  was  enabled,  nevertheless,  to 
maintain  a  long  and  useful  career,  a  conspicuous  rank  among  the 
most  distinguished  of  his  contemporaries  ;  and  the  testimonials  of 
the  public  gratitude  and  respect  with  which  he  was  honored  after 
his  death  were  such  as  were  never  awarded  by  an  intelligent 
people  to  the  undeserving." 


JOSEPH   BEAMAH. 

ONE  of  the  most  talented  and  ingenious  artisans  that  England 
has  ever  produced  was  the  late  Mr.  Joseph  Bramah,  a  man  whose 
useful  inventions  are  to  be  found  in  every  nook  and  corner  of  the 
United  Kingdom,  and  who  has  given  to  the  world  an  almost  un- 
limited power  in  the  apparatus  known  as  the  hydrostatic  press. 

Joseph  Bramah  was  the  son  of  a  small  farmer,  and  was  born 
at  Stainsborough,  Yorkshire,  on  the  13th  of  April,  1749.  He 
was  the  eldest  of  the  family,  and  was  intended  to  follow  the  avo- 
cation of  an  agriculturist ;  but  at  a  very  early  age  he  exhibited 
remarkable  mechanical  aptness,  and  seemed  to  fancy  tools  rather 
than  implements.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  met  with  an  accident 
which  incapacitated  him  for  the  laborious  duties  of  the  farm,  and 
gave  a  direction  to  his  future  life.  Being  badly  lamed,  it  became 
necessary  that  he  should  choose  a  business  in  which  walking  was 
not  essential.  Most  farmers'  boys  know  something  of  carpen- 
tering, and  Bramah,  who  delighted  in  it,  could  handle  tools  with 
decided  skill.  It  was  determined,  therefore,  that  this  should  be 
his  ftiture  business.  He  was  apprenticed  to  a  carpenter  and 
joiner,  and,  at  the  expiration  of  his  time,  proceeded  to  London, 
where  he  worked  journeyman  for  some  years.  By  the  exercise 
of  industiy  and  prudence,  he  was  soon  in  a  position  to  start  in 
business  on  his  own  account.  With  more  leisure  and  extended 
means,  he  was  now  able  to  indulge  his  mechanical  inclinations, 
and  soon  was  widely  known  as  a  skillful  and  ingenious  workman, 
and  a  mechanic  of  fine  inventive  powers.  A  few  years  later  he 
adopted  the  profession  of  engineer  or  machinist,  having,  in  the 
mean  time,  invented  some  important  improvements  in  water- 
closets,  which  article  he  manufactured.  But  what  gave  him 
most  reputation  was  an  ingenious  lock,  still  universally  used  in 
England,  and  known  by  his  name.  The  construction  of  this  lock 
is  remarkably  ingenious.  Its  security  depends  on  the  nice  adjust- 
ment of  a  number  of  levers  or  sliders,  which  preserve,  when  at 
rest,  a  uniform  situation.  The  key  presses  down  these  levers  to 
a  certain  extent,  and  no  more  ;  and  so  exact  is  its  operations,  that 
the  lock  was  considered  impregnable  until  Mr.  Hobbs,  an  Ameri- 
can mechanic  of  great  talent,  succeeded  in  picking  it,  after  many 


210  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

hours'  labor,  at  the  Crystal  Palace.  On  another  occasion,  this 
lock  was  opened  before  a  committee  of  the  House  of  Commons 
by  means  of  a  common  quill.  The  object  of  the  experiment  was 
to  show  the  extreme  delicacy  of  the  works,  the  quill  having  been 
cut  into  the  required  shape  from  the  true  key.  This  lock  obtained 
a  patent  in  1784. 

Among  other  inventions  by  Mr.  Bramah  were  improvements  in 
water-cocks,  pumps,  and  fire-engines ;  but  the  most  important  of 
all,  and  the  one  for  which  he  will  be  always  remembered,  is  the 
hydraulic  press.  The  principle  of  this  maclune  is  thus  described  : 
A  given  pressure,  as  that  given  by  a  plug  forced  inward  upon  a 
square  inch  of  the  surface  of  a  fluid  confined  in  a  vessel,  is  sud- 
denly communicated  to  every  square  inch  of  the  vessel's  surface, 
however  large,  and  to  every  inch  of  the  surface  of  any  body  im- 
mersed in  it :  thus,  if  we  attempt  to  force  a  cork  into  a  vessel  full 
of  water,  the  pressure  will  not  merely  be  felt  by  the  portion  of  the 
water  directly  in  the  range  of  the  cork,  but  by  all  parts  of  the  mass 
alike ;  and  the  liability  of  the  bottle  to  break,  supposing  it  to  be 
of  uniform  strength  throughout,  will  be  as  great  in  one  place  as 
another ;  and  a  bottle  will  break  at  the  point  wherever  it  is  the 
weakest,  however  that  point  may  be  situated  relatively  to  the 
place  where  the  cork  is  applied ;  and  the  effect  will  be  the  same, 
whether  the  stopper  be  inserted  at  the  top,  bottom,  or  side  of  the 
vessel.  It  is  this  power  which  operates  with  such  astonishing 
effect  in  the  hydrostatic  press.  The  application  of  the  hand  at 
the  handle  with  a  force  of  only  ten  pounds  produces  an  actual 
power  of  two  thousand  five  hundred  pounds,  and  so  in  proportion 
to  the  size,  strength,  and  capacity  of  the  machine.  A  man  can 
easily  exert  ten  times  the  force  supposed,  and  thus  command  a 
power  of  twenty-five  thousand  pounds.  These  stupendous  effects 
seem  almost  magical  when  it  is  remembered  that  they  are  pro- 
duced by  two  small  pipes,  each  fitted  with  a  piston  and  a  little 
water,  which  for  years  needs  no  replenishing.  This  invaluable 
machine  was  patented  in  1796.  In  the  following  year  Bramah 
patented  the  beer-machine  now  so  common  in  hotels,  and  in  pri- 
vate houses  where  water  is  not  easily  obtained.  By  the  aid  of  this 
elegant  little  contrivance,  fluids  may  be  drawn  from  remote  places 
with  the  greatest  ease.  He  was  also  the  inventor  of  improvements 
in  steam-engines,  especially  in  boilers ;  in  machinery  for  producing 
smooth  and  accurate  surfaces  on  wood  or  metal ;  in  paper-making 


JOSEPH  BRAMAH.  211 

machinery;  in  making  pens  by  a  mechanical  process,  by  which 
several  nibs  resembling  steel  pens  were  cut  out  of  one  quill  and 
fixed  in  a  holder  for  use ;  and  in  the  construction  of  carriages. 
In  1806  he  contrived  an  exceedingly  ingenious  mode  of  printing, 
which  was  shortly  afterward  applied  to  the  consecutive  numbering 
of  bank-notes,  and  by  the  introduction  of  which,  during  the  issue 
of  one  pound  notes  by  the  Bank  of  England,  the  labor  of  100  clerks 
out  of  120  was  dispensed  Avith. 

In  1812  Mr.  Bramah  patented  an  elaborate  scheme  for  laying 
mains  or  large  water-pipes  through  the  principal  streets  of  Lon- 
don, of  sufficient  strength  to  withstand  great  pressure  applied  by 
force-pumps.  The  object  was  to  provide  the  means  of  extinguish- 
ing fires  by  throwing  water  without  the  aid  of  a  fire-engine,  and 
also  to  supply  a  lifting  power  applicable  to  the  raising  of  great 
weights,  by  forcing  water  or  air  into  an  apparatus  consisting  of  a 
series  of  tubes,  sliding  into  one  another  like  the  tubes  of  a  tele- 
scope, and  capable  of  being  projected  when  necessary.  He  de- 
clared that  he  was  able  to  make  a  series  of  five  hundred  such 
tubes,  each  five  feet  long,  capable  of  sliding  within  each  other, 
and  of  being  extended  in  a  few  seconds  by  the  pressure  of  air  to 
the  length  of  2500  feet.  With  this  apparatus  he  proposed  to 
raise  wrecks,  and  regulate  the  descent  of  weights.  The  last  pat- 
ent secured  by  Mr.  Bramah  was  for  a  mode  of  preventing  dry-rot 
in  timber  by  covering  it  with  a  thin  coat  of  Koman  cement. 

Mr.  Bramah  died  on  the  9th  of  December,  1814.  He  was  su- 
perintending the  uprooting  of  trees  in  Holt  forest  by  his  hydraulic 
press  at  the  time,  and  contracted  a  severe  cold,  from  which  he 
never  recovered.  Mr.  Bramah  was  a  sincere  Christian  and  an 
excellent  man ;  in  his  disposition  he  was  cheerful,  benevolent, 
and  affectionate  ;  in  his  habits,  staid,  soberly,  and  tidy ;  in  his  re- 
lations with  his  fellow-man,  liberal  and  upright.  He  never  forgot 
his  humble  origin,  and  always  treated  the  mechanics  who  were 
employed  in  his  workshops  with  kindness  and  consideration — so 
much  so,  indeed,  that,  during  times  of  commercial  stagnation,  he 
would  carry  on  his  works,  although  without  a  market  for  the  goods 
that  were  produced.  Mr.  Bramah  was  not  an  author,  but  two  arti- 
cles from  his  pen  were  published,  "  A  Dissertation  on  the  Construc- 
tion of  Locks,"  and  a  "  Letter  to  the  Right  Honorable  Sir  James 
Eyre,  Lord  Chief  Justice  of  the  Common  Pleas,  on  the  subject  of 
the  cause  of  Boulton  &  Watt  versus  Hornblower  &  Maberley." 


JAMES  HARGREAVES. 

THE  spinning-jenny,  one  of  the  most  important  items  in  the 
improved  machinery  now  used  for  weaving,  was  the  invention  of 
James  Hargreaves,  a  poor  weaver  of  Stand  Hill,  near  Blackburn, 
England.  The  machine  is  said  to  have  received  its  name  from  a 
fair  damsel,  probably  the  sweetheart  of  the  inventor.  Its  object 
is  to  spin  the  loose  threads  (called  a  roving  or  slubbin)  into  yarn. 
This  operation  was  performed  by  hand  up  to  Hargreaves's  time, 
and  was  slowly  and  imperfectly  done.  Being  a  weaver  himself, 
he  was  aware  of  the  importance  of  the  machine  he  invented,  but 
nevertheless  he  owed  its  invention  to  accident.  It  is  said  that  he 
received  the  original  idea  from  seeing  a  one-thread  wheel  overturn- 
ed on  the  floor  (an  accident  that  had  occurred  hundreds  of  times 
before,  and  passed  unnoticed),  and  observing  that  the  wheel  and 
spindle  continued  to  revolve.  The  spindle  was  thrown  from  a  hor- 
irzontal  into  an  upright  position ;  and  the  thought  immediately 
struck  him  that,  if  a  number  of  spindles  were  placed  upright,  and 
side  by  side,  several  threads  might  be  spun  at  once.  Acting  on 
this  suggestion,  he  constructed  a  frame,  in  which  he  placed  eight 
rovings  and  eight  spindles.  The  rovings,  when  extended  to  the 
spindles,  passed  between  two  horizontal  bars  of  wood,  forming  a 
clasp,  which  opened  and  shut  somewhat  like  a  parallel  ruler ; 
when  pressed  together,  the  clasp  held  the  threads  fast.  A  certain 
portion  of  roving  being  extended  from  the  spindles  to  the  wooden 
clasp,  the  latter  was  closed,  and  then  drawn  along  the  horizontal 
frame  to  a  considerable  distance  from  the  spindles,  thus  length- 
ening the  threads  and  reducing  them  to  their  proper  thinness. 
The  spinner's  left  hand  performed  this  operation ;  with  his  right 
he  turned  a  wheel  which  caused  the  spindles  to  revolve  rapidly, 
and  thus  the  roving  was  spun  into  yarn.  By  returning  the  clasp 
to  its  first  position,  and  letting  down  a  presser  wire,  the  yarn  was 
wound  upon  the  spindle. 

This  machine  was  rudely  constructed,  but  it  was  practicable, 
and  Hargreaves  put  it  into  operation  for  the  benefit  of  himself 
and  family.  He  endeavored  to  keep  it  a  secret,  and  spun  weft 
merely  for  his  own  weaving ;  but  such  an  important  piece  of  ma- 
chinery was  not  likely  to  remain  unknown  for  a  great  length  of 


JAMES  HARGKEAVES.  213 

time.  First  his  intimate  friends  became  acquainted  with  its  rapid 
operations,  and  then  they  spread  the  rumor  among  their  fellow- 
workmen.  An  excitement  was  the  consequence.  The  weavers 
began  to  complain,  in  the  usual  way,  that  the  bread  was  being 
taken  from  their  mouths,  and  that,  if  the  machines  came  into  use, 
multitudes  would  be  thrown  out  of  employment  and  reduced  to  a 
state  of  starvation.  So  virulent  did  these  complaints  become  at 
length,  that  a  mob  broke  into  Hargreaves's  house  and  destroyed 
his  jenny — imagining,  possibly,  that  it  was  not  within  the  com- 
pass of  human  ingenuity  to  construct  another.  Not  alone  did  he 
thus  suffer  in  his  property  ;  his  person  was  exposed  to  the  great- 
est danger,  and  he  was  compelled  to  flee  to  Nottingham  (1768), 
where  he  hoped  to  be  safe.  Here  he  entered  into  partnership 
with  Mr.  Thomas  James,  a  joiner,  who  raised  sufficient  capital  to 
start  a  small  mill,  and  to  secure  a  patent  for  the  invention  (1770). 
The  specification  describes  "  a  method  of  making  a  wheel  or  an 
engine  of  an  entire  new  construction,  and  never  before  made  use 
of,  in  order  for  spinning,  drawing,  and  twisting  of  cotton,  and  to 
be  managed  by  one  person  only ;  and  that  the  wheel  or  engine 
will  spin,  draw,  and  twist  sixteen  or  more  threads  at  one  time,  by 
a  turn  or  motion  of  one  hand  and  a  draw  of  the  other."  The 
operations  of  the  machine  are  thus  described  by  Hargreaves : 
"  One  person  with  his  or  her  right  hand  turns  the  wheel,  and 
with  the  left  hand  takes  hold  of  the  clasps,  and  therewith  draws 
out  the  cotton  from  the  slubbin  box ;  and  being  twisted  by  the 
turn  of  the  wheel  in  the  drawing  out,  then  a  piece  of  wood  is 
lifted  by  the  toe,  which  lets  down  a  presser  wire,  so  as  to  press 
the  threads  so  drawn  out  and  twisted,  in  order  to  wind  or  put  the 
same  regularly  upon  bobbins  which  are  placed  on  the  spindles." 
The  advantages  of  the  invention  were  soon  recognized  by  the 
manufacturers,  and  some  few  machines  of  Hargreaves's  manu- 
facture found  a  ready  market  in  Blackburn ;  but  the  opposition 
of  the  mob  was  still  an  alarming  contingency.  A  desperate  ef- 
fort was  made  in  1779 — when  the  machines  had  obtained  a  de- 
cided footing  in  that  town — to  put  a  stop  to  their  operations.  A 
series  of  disgraceful  riots  ensued ;  a  mob  scoured  the  country  for 
miles  and  miles  round,  and  every  manufacturer  or  weaver  who 
was  suspected  of  possessing  one  of  the  obnoxious  machines  had 
his  premises  searched,  and,  if  evidence  of  the  fact  were  found,  de- 
stroyed. It  was  a  war  of  extermination  against  machinery  in 
general,  and  an  immense  deal  of  valuable  property  was  destroyed. 


214  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

It  is  said  that  the  rioters  spared  the  jennies  that  had  only  twenty 
spindles  (in  the  present  day  they,  are  constructed  with  as  many  as 
one  hundred  and  fifty),  and  only  destroyed  those  with  a  greater 
number.  The  lamentable  ignorance  which  provoked  this  futile 
hostility  did  not  belong  merely  to  the  lower  classes.  There  were 
thousands  of  others  who  viewed  the  introduction  of  machinery 
with  alarm.  The  idea  that  an  increased  and  consequently  cheap- 
er supply  would  occasion  an  increased  demand  never  entered  their 
minds.  All  they  thought  about  were  the  poor's  rates. 

The  effect  of  these  riots  on  the  thriving  town  of  Blackburn  was 
immediate.  Many  of  the  most  wealthy  and  influential  weavers 
removed  to  Manchester  and  other  large  places,  where  the  munic- 
ipal authorities  guaranteed  them  more  security.  It  was  many 
years  before  cotton-spinning  was  resumed  in  Blackburn  with  the 
old  energy. 

At  Nottingham,  Mr.  Hargreaves  and  his  partner  earned  on  the 
spinning  business  with  moderate  success.  Their  means  were  too 
limited  to  enable  them  to  go  into  it  in  a  manner  calculated  to  se- 
cure a  large  return.  From  his  patent  Hargreaves  received  little 
or  nothing.  A  number  of  Lancashire  manufacturers  used  his 
jenny  without  paying  any  thing  for  the  privilege.  He  gave  no- 
tice of  action  against  them,  and  they  sent  a  delegation  to  Not- 
tingham to  treat  with  him  on  the  subject.  Hargreaves  demand- 
ed the  sum  of  seven  thousand  pounds  for  the  exclusive  privileges 
they  required.  Subsequently  he  came  down  to  four  thousand 
pounds ;  but  the  delegation  refused  to  pay  more  than  three  thou- 
sand. Here  the  negotiation  was  broken  off,  very  unfortunately 
for  Hargreaves.  The  actions  went  on,  but  were  relinquished  be- 
fore the  day  of  trial,  Hargreaves's  attorney  having  discovered  that 
his  client,  compelled  by  necessity,  before  leaving  Lancashire  had 
sold  some  jennies  to  obtain  clothing  for  his  children,  of  whom  he 
had  six  or  seven.  The  lawyer  despaired  of  getting  a  verdict  in 
the  face  of  such  evidence. 

In  April,  1778,  Mr.  Hargreaves  departed  this  life,  leaving  a 
widow  and  a  large  family.  He  had  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  com- 
fortable living  from  the  fruits  of  his  ingenuity  and  industry,  but 
for  his  invention  he  got  nothing  beyond  what  it  produced  him  as 
a  labor-saving  machine  for  his  own  use.  His  widow  received  four 
hundred  pounds  from  Mr.  James  for  her  husband's  .^hare  in  the 
busines§.  The  profits  must  have  been  rather  small  to  leave  such 
a  poor  residue. 


ALEXANDEB  WILSON. 

ALEXANDER  WILSON,  the  world-known  ornithologist,  was  a 
native  of  Scotland,  born  at  Paisley  on  the  6th  of  July,  1766. 
His  father,  although  in  humble  circumstances,  was  ambitious  to 
see  his  son  in  the  ministry,  but  inability  to  afford  the  necessary 
education  for  such  a  position  rendered  it  impossible  for  this  am- 
bition to  be  gratified.  Beyond  the  plain  rudiments  of  an  English 
education,  "Wilson  had  no  advantage  over  the  other  boys  of  his 
native  town.  Like  them,  he  had  to  contribute  to  the  income  of 
the  household,  and  at  the  age  of  thirteen  was  bound  apprentice 
to  his  brother-in-law,  Mr.  William  Duncan,  to  learn  the  business 
of  ^  weaver.  The  employment  was  not  acceptable  to  him,  but 
he  prosecuted  it  industriously  for  three  years,  amusing  himself 
in  the  intervals  of  labor  with  the  composition  of  verses.  During 
the  subsequent  four  years  he  worked  as  a  journeyman  weaver, 
and  labored  hard  as  a  poet.  He  was  particularly  anxious  to  ex- 
cel in  the  latter  character,  and  believed  in  his  own  mind  that  he 
was  destined  to  excel  the  poet  Burns,  the  lustre  of  whose  genius 
was  then  suffusing  the  bleak  mountains  of  Scotland.  He  pro- 


216  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

duced  many  pieces,  some  of  which  appeared  in  the  poet's  corner 
of  the  papers.  It  is  said  they  possessed  much  merit,  but  were 
mechanically  defective.  Beyond  this  it  is  unnecessary  to  refer 
to  them  except  as  indications  of  a  refined  mind  struggling  for  ex- 
pression in  spite  of  local  difficulties.  When  he  was  in  his  twen- 
ty-first year,  he  joined  his  brother-in-law  in  a  peddling  campaign 
through  the  eastern  districts  of  Scotland.  Wilson  was  rejoiced 
at  the  opportunity  of  escaping  from  the  wearisome  captivity  of 
the  loom,  and  went  forth  with  his  pack  on  his  back  in  the  gayest 
mood.  He  made  it  not  only  a  tour  of  profit,  but  of  pleasure ;  he 
not  only  sought  customers,  but  wooed  the  Muses.  It  seldom  hap- 
pens that  a  man  can  do  two  things  at  the  same  time  with  even 
moderate  success.  Wilson  soon  discovered  that  poetry  and  ped- 
dling were  incompatible,  and  being,  like  most  poets,  a  little  im- 
practical, he  made  up  his  mind  to  devote  himself  wholly  to  poet- 
ry. After  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and  an  enormous  amount  of  pa- 
tience, he  succeeded  in  getting  some  small  pieces  published  in  book 
form,  and  the  work  went  through  two  tiny  editions  with  credit  to 
the  author.  It  is  extremely  difficult  to  live  on  any  kind  of  cred- 
it, and  poetic  credit  is  perhaps  the  shortest  in  the  world.  Wil- 
son found  it  necessary  to  descend  from  his  Pegasus  and  return 
to  the  ignoble  loom,  and  shortly  afterward  became  involved  in  a 
dispute  between  the  manufacturers  and  the  weavers.  lie  sided, 
of  course,  with  the  latter,  and  revenged  himself  on  the  former  by 
launching  fearfully  fierce  pieces  of  poetic  satire  at  their  heads. 
In  this  way  he  contributed  largely  to  the  hot  temper  of  the  strug- 
gle, doing  good  service  to  his  party,  and  carrying  dismay  into  the 
ranks  of  the  enemy.  The  most  sagacious  generals  sometimes  take 
a  false  step  in  the  heat  and  excitement  of  the  battle.  This  was 
the  case  with  Wilson.  There  was  one  man  in  the  town  who  had 
rendered  himself  singularly  obnoxious  to  the  weavers,  and  this 
man  Wilson  was  determined  to  annihilate.  He  wrote  a  severe 
personal  satire,  in  which  the  individual  referred  to  was  held  «p 
to  the  execration  of  the  world  as  a  spectacle  of  all  that  was  bad, 
and  depraved,  and  vicious,  and  profligate.  The  article  was,  of 
course,  libelous,  but  as  it  was  published  anonymously,  there  was 
some  difficulty  in  fastening  it  upon  Wilson.  One  night,  as  he 
was  going  home,  some  spies  in  the  employ  of  the  libeled  one  seized 
him,  and  in  the  search  which  followed  discovered  some  papers 
which  settled  the  question  of  authorship.  He  was  immediately 


ALEXANDER  WILSON.  217 

prosecuted  before  the  sheriff,  sentenced  to  a  short  imprisonment, 
and  compelled  to  burn  the  offensive  effusion  at  the  public  cross 
of  Paisley.  After  this  he  determined  on  leaving  Scotland,  and  at 
the  first  opportunity  sailed  for  America,  where  he  arrived  on  the 
14th  of  July,  1794.  He  staid  in  Philadelphia  for  a  short  time, 
pursuing  his  old  trade,  and  then  removed  to  Sheppardstown,  in 
Virginia,  in  the  hope  of  getting  rid  of  the  loom  forever.  Finding 
that  this  was  impossible,  he  returned  once  more  to  Pennsylvania. 
He  was  still  subject  to  violent  attacks  of  poetic  phrensy,  and  per- 
petrated huge  quantities  of  verse,  which,  although  they  did  not 
yield  any  profit,  procured  him  some  consideration.  Gratified  with 
this,  he  abandoned  weaving,  and  set  up  as  village  schoolmaster. 
In  this  arduous  profession  he  continued  for  several  years,  and 
prospered.  The  defects  of  an  imperfect  education  had  always 
weighed  upon  his  mind,  and,  now  that  he  had  the  opportunity,  he 
used  every  exertion  to  repair  them.  He  was  himself  the  most  in- 
defatigable student  of  the  establishment,  and  made  considerable 
progress  in  many  departments  of  human  knowledge  hitherto  seal- 
ed to  him.  The  emoluments  from  his  school  were  not  enormous- 
ly great,  nor  sufficient  to  deter  him  from  accepting  a  situation  as 
teacher  from  the  trustees  of  Union  School,  in  the  township  of 
Kingsessing,  a  short  distance  from  Gray's  Ferry,  on  the  Schuyl- 
kill,  and  a  few  miles  from  the  city  of  Philadelphia. 

The  school-house  was  pleasantly  situated  near  the  botanical 
garden  of  William  Bartram,  and  to  this  circumstance,  more  than 
any  other,  may  be  traced  the  after-career  of  Wilson.  Bartram 
was  a  man  unusually  versed  in  natural  history,  and  knew  more 
about  birds  than  any  other  man  in  the  state.  From  the  day  of 
his  arrival  in  America,  Wilson  had  been  struck  with  the  beauty 
of  the  birds  he  saw,  and  now  that  he  had  an  opportunity  of  con- 
versing with  a  man  who  knew  so  much  of  their  habits,  the  sub- 
ject of  ornithology  became  one  of  great  interest  to  him.  In  a 
short  time  he  devoted  himself  to  it  with  an  enthusiasm  which 
denoted  a  natural  aptitude  for  the  study.  From  Bartram  he  ex- 
tracted all  that  the  experience  of  that  remarkable  man  had  gath- 
ered, but  without  accepting  the  information  as  correctly  philosoph- 
ical. When  the  one  stated  that  such  and  such  were  the  habits  of 
such  and  such  birds,  the  other  placed  the  birds  referred  to  under 
strict  surveillance ;  surprised  them  in  their  homes,  interrupted 
them  in  their  domestic  felicities,  robbed  them  of  their  suppers,  and 

K 


218  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

otherwise  behaved  in  an  inquisitorial  manner.  Thus,  by  making 
experience  and  observation  his  only  guides,  he  became  an  orni- 
thologist. A  few  books  in  Mr.  Bartram's  library  supplied  him 
with  the  necessary  technical  tools  ;  for  the  rest,  he  trusted  to  him- 
self. Circumstances  often  converge  to  the  point  we  hope  to  reach, 
and  especially  is  this  the  case  with  men  of  genius.  In  the  ordina- 
ry course  of  life  they  learn  many  things  that  are  apparently  use- 
less, when  suddenly  a  new  idea,  a  new  passion,  a  new  pursuit  de- 
mands the  very  knowledge  that  has  been  thus  casually  acquired. 
So  was  it  with  Wilson.  As  a  relaxation  from  severer  duties,  he 
studied  drawing.  At  first  he  did  not  meet  with  extraordinary 
success,  and  was  barely  able  to  satisfy  himself;  but  later,  when 
he  wanted  to  depict  the  form  and  plumage  of  a  rare  bird,  he  found 
liis  hand,  although  imperfectly  tutored,  skillful  and  true. 

Before  embracing  ornithology  as  a  specialty,  he  made  natural 
history,  in  all  its  beautiful  comprehensiveness,  a  study.  His  little 
apartment  was  crowded  with  specimens  of  the  familiar  animals, 
birds,  and  reptiles  of  the  neighborhood ;  and  all  the  boys  of  the 
country  for  miles  round  knew  that  they  were- certain  of  a  few 
coppers  if  they  could  secure  some  scarce  specimen  of  the  animal 
creation.  His  own  scholars,  aware  of  his  passion,  rendered  good 
service  in  the  cause.  Their  eagerness  in  this  respect  is  illustrated 
in  the  following  beautiful  little  incident,  described  in  the  most 
beautiful  way  by  Wilson  himself.  "  One  of  my  boys  caught  a 
mouse  in  school  a  few  days  ago,  and  directly  marched  up  to  me 
with  his  prisoner.  I  set  about  drawing  it  the  same  evening, 
and  all  the  while  the  pantings  of  its  little  heart  showed  that  it 
was  in  the  most  extreme  agonies  of  fear.  I  had  intended  to  kill 
it,  in  order  to  fix  it  in  the  claws  of  a  stuffed  owl ;  but,  happening 
to  spill  a  few  drops  of  water  where  it  was  tied,  it  lapped  it  up 
with  such  eagerness,  and  looked  up  in  my  face  with  such  an  ex- 
pression of  supplicating  terror  as  perfectly  overcame  me.  I  im- 
mediately untied  it,  and  restored  it  to  life  and  liberty.  The  ago- 
nies of  a  prisoner  at  the  stake,  while  the  fire  and  instruments  of 
torture  are  preparing,  could  not  be  more  severe  than  the  suffer- 
ings of  that  poor  mouse ;  and,  insignificant  as  the  object  was,  I 
felt  at  that  moment  the  sweet  sensation  that  mercy  leaves  on  the 
mind  when  she  triumphs  over  cruelty."  Is  it  not  a  pleasure  to 
sympathize  with  a  mind  like  this,  so  keenly  sensitive,  so  poetically 
kind? 


ALEXANDER  WILSON.  219 

In  1803  Wilson  wrote  to  a  friend  in  Scotland  that  he  found  the 
confinement  of  the  school-room  injurious  to  his  health,  and  that, 
for  the  purpose  of  gaining  a  little  healthful  recreation,  he  was 
engaged  in  making  a  collection  of  American  birds.  This  appears 
to  be  the  first  indication  of  his  direct  application  to  a  science, 
his  connection  with  which  was  destined  to  cover  his  name  with 
world-wide  fame.  The  real  scheme  which  he  had  in  view  when 
he  wrote  this  letter  was  to  prepare  an  American  Ornithology  for 
the  press.  He  mentioned  it  to  Mr.  Bartram,  who,  while  he  ap- 
proved the  idea,  doubted  whether  it  could  be  profitably  carried 
into  execution.  He  also  broached  the  matter  to  Mr.  Lawson,  an 
engraver,  and  eminently  practical  man,  who  recapitulated  the  ob- 
jections which  had  been  previously  urged.  But  Wilson  was  now 
excited,  and  not  easily  turned  from  a  subject  which  had  taken  firm 
hold  of  his  imagination.  He  determined  that  he  would  travel 
through  the  United  States,  obtain  specimens  of  all  the  birds  that 
he  could  discover,  make  drawings  of  them,  and  then  trust  to  the 
future  for  some  happy  opportunity  of  placing  his  labors  before  the 
public.  It  is  characteristic  of  the  man  that,  when  he  came  to  this 
determination,  he  was.  in  possession  of  the  enormous  fortune  of 
seventy-jive  cents.  Three  years  elapsed  before  he  was  able  to  take 
any  farther  step,  but  during  this  period  he  neglected  no  opportu- 
nity of  improving  and  educating  himself  for  the  vocation  he  had 
selected.  Among  other  things,  he  made  an  essay  at  etching,  un- 
der the  friendly  tuition  of  Mr.  Lawson,  but,  as  might  have  been 
expected,  the  result.was  not  astonishingly  gratifying.  Whenever 
he  could  snatch  a  few  days  from  his  scholastic  duties,  he  made 
tours  into  the  woods,  and  never  came  home  empty-handed.  On 
one  occasion  he  went  on  foot  to  Niagara,  the  results  of  which  trip 
he  incorporated  in  a  lengthy  poem  called  the  "  Foresters,"  which, 
with  many  other  of  his  effusions,  appeared  in  a  periodical  of  the 
day,  and  enjoyed  a  brief  popularity.  As  a  draughtsman,  he  made 
rapid  progress.  Mr.  Jefferson,  to  whom  he  sent  one  of  his  draw- 
ings, wrote  him  an  extremely  friendly  letter,  and  even  begged  his 
assistance  in  discovering  a  strange  bird  which  he,  Mr.  Jefferson, 
had  often  heard,  but  never  seen  closely.  Wilson  had  the  pro- 
foundest  veneration  for  the  great  statesman,  and  was  immensely 
gratified  at  this  compliment,  coming  as  it  did  from  one  who  was 
not  meanly  versed  in  ornithology.  In  1806  the  newspapers  an- 
nounced that  Mr.  Jefferson  had  it  in  contemplation  to  send  an 


220  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

expedition,  composed  of  men  of  science,  to  explore  the  country  of 
the  Mississippi.  This  was  an  opportunity  not  to  be  neglected. 
Wilson  consulted  with  his  friends  Bartram  and  Lawson,  and, 
with  their  approval,  dispatched  a  memorial  to  the  President,  beg- 
ging that  he  might  be  included  in  the  expedition  as  a  practical 
ornithologist.  It  is  probable  that  this  memorial  never  reached 
its  destination,  for  no  reply  was  made  to  it.  Notwithstanding 
this  disheartening  rebuff  (if  it  may  so  be  termed),  better  fortunes 
were  in  store  for  him.  Mr.  Samuel  F.  Bradford,  a  bookseller  of 
Boston,  being  about  to  publish  an  edition  of  Rees'  new  Cyclo- 
paedia, Wilson  was  introduced  to  him  as  qualified  to  superintend 
the  work,  and  was  engaged  at  a  liberal  salary  as  assistant  ed- 
itor. This  unexpected,  and,  therefore,  doubly  welcome  promo- 
tion did  not  divert  his  mind  from  the  scheme  it  had  so  long  and 
ardently  nourished.  '  Two  days  after  he  signed  the  contract,  and 
when  his  exultation  may  be  supposed  to  have  been  at  its  height, 
he  wrote  to  Mr.  Bartram  :  "  This  engagement  will,  I  hope,  enable 
me,  in  more  ways  than  one,  to  proceed  in  my  intended  Ornitholo- 
gy, to  which  all  my  leisure  moments  will  be  devoted."  He  little 
thought,  when  he  penned  these  lines,  how  soon  his  fondest  hopes 
were  to  be  realized.  Not  long  after  his  engagement  with  Mr. 
Bradford,  he  communicated  his  plans  to  that  gentleman,  who, 
without  any  hesitation,  approved  them.  He  agreed  to  be  the 
publisher  of  the  work,  and  felt  so  much  confidence  in  its  success, 
that  he  volunteered  to  furnish  the  funds  necessary  for  its  comple- 
tion. If  there  was  a  happy  man  in  the  world,  it  was  Wilson. 

Much  of  the  material  for  the  first  two  volumes  was  already 
completed.  In  various  pedestrian  tours,  he  had  made  himself 
thoroughly  familiar  with  all  the  birds  of  the  Northern  and  East- 
ern States,  had  noted  their  habits,  peculiarities,  and  organization, 
and  had  transferred  their  forms  to  paper.  It  was  proposed  now 
to  publish  the  first  volume  with  all  possible  dispatch,  after  which 
Wilson  might  start  on  his  travels,  and,  by  making  them  both  com- 
mercial and  scientific,  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone.  In  other 
words,  he  was  to  take  a  copy  under  his  arm  as  a  sample,  and  ob- 
tain subscribers  through  the  country.  In  September,  1808,  the 
first  volume  made  its  appearance,  and  immediately  Wilson  set  out 
in  search  of  "  birds  and  subscribers,"  as  he  says.  It  is  unneces- 
sary to  add  that  he  obtained  a  much  greater  proportion  of  the 
former  than  the  latter.  The.  work  was  expensive,  though  beauti- 


ALEXANDER  WILSON.  221 

ful,  and  was  scientifically  and  artistically  a  novelty  in  advance  of 
the  age.  But,  although  subscribers  did  not  rush  upon  him  with 
the  violence  he  anticipated,  he  found  in  every  important  city  some 
few  cultivated  and  wealthy  men  who  cheerfully  placed  their  names 
on  his  list,  and  every  where  the  work  created  unbounded  admira- 
tion. In  other  respects  the  journey  was  invaluable  to  him. 
Wherever  he  could  find  the  proper  kind  of  man,  he  cultivated 
him,  and  begged  a  correspondence  on  all  ornithological  matters. 
In  this  way  he  placed  the  entire  feathered  tribe  under  severe  es- 
pionage. Not  a  strange  wing  could  be  raised  without  his  knowl- 
edge. In  a  commercial  point  of  view  the  journey  could  not  have 
been  considered  a  failure,  for,  in  spite  of  the  enormous  sum  at 
which  the  work  was  published  (one  hundred  and  twenty  dol- 
lars), he  succeeded  in  getting  forty-one  subscribers.  This  number 
would  be  ridiculously  small  in  the  present  day,  when  we  are  ac- 
customed to  expensive  works  of  art,  and  know  better  how  to  ap- 
preciate the  genius  that  produces  them ;  but  we  must  remember 
that  it  was  different  in  Wilson's  time.  People  knew  nothing  of 
the  subject,  and  naturally  hesitated  at  purchasing  a  book  at  what 
must  have  appeared  a  fabulous  price. 

After  his  Eastern  tour  he  remained  a  few  days  at  home,  and 
then  started  for  the  South,  where  his  success  was  scarcely  equal 
to  his  expectations.  In  the  mean  time  the  second  volume  of  the 
Ornithology  had  made  its  appearance  (January,  1810),  and  the 
remaining  volumes  were  put  in  hand.  He  has  left  ample  details 
of  this  tour,  and,  as  they  are  extremely  interesting,  we  shall  make 
no  apology  for  drawing  largely  from  them. 

Wilson's  first  point  was  Lancaster,  where  he  was  introduced  to 
the  governor,  who  subscribed,  and  to  many  members  of  both 
houses,  whom  he  describes  as  "  a  pitiful,  squabbling,  political 
mob ;  so  split  up,  and  justling  about  the  mere  formalities  of  leg- 
islation, without  knowing  any  thing  of  its  realities,"  that  he  aban- 
doned them  with  disgust.  From  Lancaster  he  proceeded  to  Co- 
lumbia, and  thence  crossed  the  Susquehanna,  cutting  his  way 
through  the  ice  for  several  hundred  yards.  Passing  on  to  York, 
he  heard  of  an  extraordinary  character,  between  eighty  and  nine- 
ty years  of  age,  who  had  lived  by  trapping  birds  and  quadrupeds 
for  upward  of  thirty  years.  Of  course  he  paid  a  visit  to  this 
worthy,  taking  with  him  half  a  pound  of  snuff  by  way  of  peace- 
offering.  Wilson  showed  him  the  Ornithology,  and  was  much 


222  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

* 

diverted  with  the  astonishment  he  expressed  on  looking  at  the 
plates.  He  could  tell  anecdotes  of  the  greater  part  of  the  sub- 
jects of  the  first  volume,  and  some  of  the  second.  We  may  sup- 
pose that  the  scientific  and  the  practical  ornithologists  were  im- 
mensely amused  with  each  other.  At  Hanover,  Wilson  discover- 
ed a  more  singular  being  in  the  person  of  a  learned  judge,  who 
took  upon  himself  to  say  that  such  a  book  ought  not  to  be  en- 
couraged, as  it  was  not  within  the' reach  of  the  commonalty,  and 
therefore  inconsistent  with  republican  institutions.  Wilson  did 
not  dispute  this  proposition,  but  combated  it  with  another,  name- 
ly, that  the  judge  was  a  greater  culprit  than  himself,  in  erecting 
a  large,  elegant,  three-story  brick*  house,  so  much  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  commonalty,  and,  consequently,  grossly  contrary  to 
republican  institutions.  He  harangued  the  Solon  more  serious- 
ly, until,  to  use  his  own  words,  "he  began  to  show  symptoms  of 
intellect.""  He  proceeded  quickly  from  place  to  place  until  he 
reached  Pittsburg,  where  he  made  a  diligent  search  for  subscrib- 
ers. He  was  successful  beyond  his  fondest  hopes,  having  obtain- 
ed nineteen  subscribers  in  three  days.  .The  road  to  Chilicothe 
being  impassable,  owing  to  the  freshets,  Wilson  determined  to 
navigate  himself  down  to  Cincinnati,  a  distance  of  five  hundred 
and  twenty-eight  miles,  in  a  small  skiff,  which  he  named  the  OR- 
NITHOLOGIST. The  expense  of  hiring  a  rower  being  considerable, 
he  dispensed  with  that  luxury,  and,  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of 
his  friends,  embarked  alone.  The  Alleghany  River  was  one  wide 
torrent  of  broken  ice,  and  he  calculated  on  experiencing  consid- 
erable difficulty  on  this  score.  His  stock  of  provisions  consisted 
of  some  biscuit  and  cheese,  and  a  bottle  of  cordial  presented  to 
him  by  a  gentleman  of  Pittsburg.  His  gun,  trunk,  and  great- 
coat occupied  one  end  of  the  boat,  and  conveniently  at  hand  was 
a  tin  measure,  with  which  he  bailed  the  boat  and  took  his  bever- 
age from  the  Ohio.  Thus  prepared,  he  bade  adieu  to  the  smoky 
confines  of  Pitt,  launched  into  the  stream,  and  was  soon  winding 
away  among  the  hills  which  every  where  inclose  the  noble  river. 
The  weather  was  warm  and  serene,  and  the  stream  like  a  mirror, 
except  where  floating  masses  of  ice  spotted  its  surface  ;  but  these 
soon  disappeared.  Far  from  being  concerned  at  his  novel  situa- 
tion, he  felt  his  heart  expand  with  joy  at  the  novelties  which  sur- 
rounded him.  He  listened  with  pleasure  to  the  whistling  of  the 
redbird  on  the  banks  as  he  passed,  and  contemplated  the  forest 


ALEXANDER  WILSON.  223 

scenery  as  it  receded  with  increasing  delight.  Dissatisfied  with 
the  slow  speed  of  the  stream,  which  flowed  at  the  rate  of  two  and 
a  half  miles  an  hour  only,  he  stripped  to  the  oars,  and  added  three 
and  a  half  miles  more  to  its  velocity.  He  passed  a  number  of 
arks,  or  Kentucky  boats,  and  was  much  struck  with  their  pecul- 
iarities. Several  of  these  floating  caravans  were  laden  with  store- 
goods  for  the  supply  of  the  towns  and  villages  through  which  they 
passed,  having  a  counter  erected,  shawls,  muslins,  etc.,  displayed, 
and  every  thing  ready  for  transacting  business.  On  approaching 
a  settlement,  they  blow  a  horn  or  a  tin  trumpet,  to  announce  to 
the  inhabitants  that  they  have  arrived  and  commenced  business. 

The  first  day  he  rowed  twenty  miles,  and,  experiencing  no  evil 
effects,  made  up  his  mind  that  he  could  "  stand  it."  About  an 
hour  after  dark  he  put  up  at  a  miserable  cabin,  about  fifty-two 
miles  from  Pittsburg,  where  he  slept  on  what  he  supposed  to  be 
corn-stalks,  or  something  worse.  He  was  so  uncomfortable  tha? 
he  preferred  the  smooth  bosom  of  the  Ohio,  and  long  before  day 
resumed  his  journey.  The  landscape  on  each  side  lay  in  one 
mass  of  shade,  but  the  grandeur  of  the  projecting  headlands  and 
vanishing  points  or  lines  was  charmingly  reflected  in  the  smooth, 
glassy  surface  below.  He  could  only  discover  when  he  was  pass- 
ing a  clearing  by  the  crowing  of  the  cocks ;  and  now  and  then,  in 
more  solitary  places,  the  big-horned  owl  made  a  most  hideous 
hallooing,  that  echoed  among  the  mountains.  In  this  lonesome 
manner,  with  full  leisure  for  observation  and  reflection,  exposed 
to  hardships  all  day  and  hard  berths  all  night,  to  storms  of  rain, 
hail,  and  snow — for  it  froze  severely  almost  every  night — he  per- 
severed from  the  24th  of  February  (1810)  to  Sunday  evening, 
March  the  17th,  when  he  moored  his  skiff  safely  in  Bear-Grass 
Creek,  at  the  Rapids  of  the  Ohio.  His  hands  had  suffered,  and 
it  was  some  weeks  before  they  resumed  their  former  flexibility 
and  feeling. 

At  Marietta,  Wilson  visited  the  celebrated  remains  of  Indian 
fortifications,  as  they  are  called,  and  also  at  Big-Grave  Creek, 
seventy  miles  above.  The  Big  Grave  is  three  hundred  paces 
round  at  the  base,  seventy  feet  perpendicular,  and  the  top,  which 
is  about  fifty  feet  over,  has  sunk  in,  forming  a  regular  concavity 
three  or  four  feet  deep.  This  tumulus  is  in  the  form  of  a  cone, 
and  the  whole,  as  well  as  its  immediate  neighborhood,  is  covered 
with  a  venerable  growth  of  forest  four  or  five  hundred  years  old, 


224  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

which  gives  it  a  most  singular  appearance.  In  clambering  round 
its  steep  sides,  Wilson  found  a  place  where  a  large  white  oak  had 
been  blown  down,  and  had  torn  up  the  earth  to  the  depth  of  five 
or  six  feet.  In  this  place  he  commenced  digging,  but  with  no 
result.  A  person  of  the  neighborhood,  however,  presented  him 
with  some  beads,  fashioned  out  of  a  kind  of  white  stone,  which 
were  found  hi  digging  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  mound.  Wilson 
met  the  owner  of  the  Big  Grave,  a  placid  individual,  who  was  per- 
fectly unconscious  of  the  antiquarian  treasures  he  possessed,  and 
who,  Wilson  asserts,  would  not  expend  three  cents  to  see  the 
whole  sifted  before  his  face.  He  endeavored  to  work  on  his  av- 
arice by  representing  the  probability  that  it  might  contain  valua- 
ble matters,  and  suggested  to  him  a  mode  by  which  a  passage 
might  be  cut  into  it  level  with  the  bottom,  and  by  excavating  and 
arching  a  most  noble  cellar  might-  be  formed  for  keeping  his  tur- 
nips and  potatoes.  "  All  the  turnips  and  potatoes  I  shall  raise 
this  dozen  years,"  said  he,  "  would  not  pay  the  expense." 

On  the  5th  of  March  he  was  overtaken  by  a  severe  storm  of 
wind  and  rain,  which  changed  to  hail  and  snow,  blowing  down 
trees  and  limbs  in  all  directions.  For  immediate  preservation  he 
was  obliged  to  steer  out  into  the  river,  which  rolled  and  foamed 
like  a  sea,  and  filled  his  boat  nearly  half  full  of  water.  It  was 
with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  he  could  resist  its  fury,  and  it  was 
not  until  dusk  that  he  succeeded  in  making  a  landing  at  a  place 
on  the  Kentucky  shore.  Here  he  spent  the  evening  in  learning 
the  accomplishments  of  bear-treeing,  wolf-trapping,  and  wild-cat- 
hunting  from  an  old  professor,  but  he  was  surprised  to  find  that, 
notwithstanding  the  skill  of  this  great  master,  the  country  abound- 
ed with  wolves  and  wild-cats,  black  and  brown.  According  to 
this  distinguished  hunter's  own  confession,  he  had  lost  sixty  dogs 
since  Christmas ;  and  all  night  long  the  distant  howling  of  the 
wolves  kept  the  dogs  in  a  perfect  uproar  of  barking.  This  man, 
says  Wilson,  was  one  of  those  people  called  squatters,  who  neither 
pay  rent  nor  own  land,  but  keep  roving  on  the  frontiers,  retreat- 
ing as  the  tide  of  civilization  approaches.  They  are  the  immedi- 
ate successors  of  the  savages,  and  far  below  them  in  good  sense 
and  good  manners,  as  well  as  comfortable  accommodations. 
Nothing,  however,  adds  more  to  the  savage  grandeur  and  pictur- 
esque effect  of  the  scenery  along  the  Ohio  than  their  miserable 
huts  lurking  at  the  bottom  of  a  gigantic  growth  of  timber.  It  is 


ALEXANDER  WILSON.  225 

amusing  to  observe  how  dear  and  how  familiar  habit  has  rendered 
those  privations,  which  must  have  first  been  the  offspring  of  ne- 
cessity. Yet  none  pride  themselves  more  on  their  possessions. 
The  inhabitants  of  these  forlorn  sheds  will  talk  to  you  with  pride 
of  the  richness  of  their  soil, 'of  the  excellence  and  abundance  of 
their  country,  of  the  healthiness  of  their  climate,  and  the  purity 
of  their  waters,  while  the  only  bread  you  find  among  them  is  of 
Indian  corn  coarsely  ground  in  a  horse-mill,  with  half  the  grains 
unbroken  ;  even  their  cattle  are  destitute  of  stables  and  hay,  and 
look  like  moving  skeletons ;  their  own  houses  are  worse  than 
pig-styes ;  their  clothes  an  assemblage  of  rags  ;  their  faces  yellow, 
and  lank  with  disease ;  and  their  persons  covered  with  filth,  and 
frequently  garnished  with  the  humors  of  the  Scotch  "  fiddle" — a 
disease  which  Wilson  escaped  with  much  thankfulness.  Their 
condition  he  attributes  to  laziness.  The  corn  is  thrown  into  the 
ground  in  spring,  and  the  pigs  turned  into  the  woods,  where  they 
multiply  like  rabbits.  The  labor  of  the  squatter  is  now  over  till 
autumn,  and  he  spends  his  winter  in  eating  pork,  cabbage,  and 
hoe-cakes. 

Amid  very  tempestuous  weather  he  reached  Cincinnati,  which 
city  he  describes  with  minuteness.  From  this  point  he  made  va- 
rious excursions.  He  entered  Big-Bone  Creek,  which  being  pass- 
able only  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  he  had  to  leave  his  boat  and 
baggage  in  charge  of  a  family  hard  by,  and  set  out  for  Big-Bone 
Lick,  a  distance  of  five  miles,  through  the  woods  on  foot.  This 
place,  which  lies  "  far  in  the  windings  of  a  sheltered  vale,"  afford- 
ed him  a  fund  of  amusement  in  shooting  ducks  and  paroquets 
(of  which  last  he  skinned  twelve,  and  brought  off  two  slightly 
wounded),  and  in  examining  the  ancient  buffalo  roads  to  this 
great  licking-place.  Mr.  Colquhoun,  the  proprietor,  was  not  at 
home,  but  his  agent  and  manager  entertained  him  as  well  as  he 
was  able,  and  was  much  amused  with  his  enthusiasm.  This  place 
is  a  low  valley,  every  where  surrounded  by  high  hills  ;  in  the  cen- 
tre, by  the  side  of  the  creek,  is  a  quagmire  of  near  an  acre ;  from 
which,  and  another  smaller  one  below,  the  chief  part  of  the  big 
bones  which  give  the  place  its  name  have  been  taken ;  at  the  lat- 
ter places  he  found  numerous  fragments  of  large  bones  lying  scat- 
tered about.  In  pursuing  a  wounded  duck  across  this  quagmire, 
he  nearly  made  a  human  contribution  to  the  grand  congregation 
of  mammoths  below.  He  sunk  up  to  the  middle,  and  had  hard 

K2 


•>2G  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

struggling  to  get  out.  On  leaving,  he  laid  the  strongest  injunc- 
tions on  the  manager  to  be  on  the  look-out,  and  to  preserve  every 
thing  that  might  be  turned  up.  To  make  assurance  doubly  sure, 
he  left  a  note  for  the  proprietor,  impressing  on  him  the  same  im- 
portant matter.  In  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  he  returned  to 
his  boat,  replaced  his  baggage,  and  once  more  floated  out  with  the 
stream.  It  rained  hard  all  the  day,  and  he  had  to  row  hard  and 
drink  hard  (he  had  purchased  a  solitary  bottle  of  native  wine  at 
a  Swiss  settlement)  to  keep  himself  comfortable.  The  pockets  of 
his  great-coat  were  filled  with  bird-skins,  and  the  garment  itself 
covered  others  which  he  wished  to  preserve  ;  consequently,  there 
was  no  room  for  the  owner,  who  got  a  complete  drenching  for  lis 
disinterestedness.  In  the  evening  he  lodged  at  a  wretched  hovel, 
owned  by  a  diminutive  wretch,  who  did  nothing  but  tell  falsehoods 
concerning  his  former  greatness.  According  to  this  worthy's  own 
account,  he  had  gone  through  all  the  war  with  General  Washing- 
ton, had  become  one  of  his  Life  Guards,  and  had  sent  many  a  Brit- 
ish soldier  to  his  long  home.  As  Wilson  answered  with  indiffer- 
ence, he  attempted  to  stimulate  his  curiosity  by  still  stronger  doses, 
administered  in  the  shape  of  anecdotes.  "  One  day,"  he  said,  "  a 
grenadier  had  the  impudence  to  get  up  on  the  works,  and  to  wave 
his  cap  in  defiance ;  my  commander-  (General  Washington)  says 
to  me,  'Dick,'  says  he,  'can't  you  pepper  that  there  fellow  for 
me?'  says  he.  'Please  your  honor,'  says  I,  ' I'll  try  at  it ;'  so  I 
took  a  fair,  cool,  and  steady  aim,  and  touched  my  trigger.  Up 
went  his  heels  like  a  turkey ;  down  he  tumbled ;  one  buckshot 
had  entered  here,  and  another  there  (laying  a  finger  on  each  breast), 
and  the  bullet  found  the  way  to  his  brains  right  through  his  fore- 
head. By  God,  he  was  a  noble-looking  fellow  !"  Though  Wil- 
son believed  every  word  of  this  to  be  a  lie,  yet  he  could  not  but 
look  with  disgust  on  the  being  who  uttered  it.  This  same  mis- 
creant pronounced  a  long  prayer  before  supper,  and  immediately 
after  called  out,  in  a  splutter  of  oaths,  for  the  pine  splinters  to  be 
held  to  let  the  gentleman  see.  Such  a  farrago  of  lies,  oaths, 
prayers,  and  politeness  put  him  in  a  good  humor  in  spite  of  him- 
self. The  whole  herd  of  this  filthy  kennel  were  in  perpetual  mo- 
tion with  the  itch ;  so,  having  procured  a  large  fire  to  be  made, 
under  pretense  of  habit,  he  sought  for  the  softest  plank,  placed 
his  trunk  and  great-coat  at  his  head,  and  stretched  himself  there 
till  morning.  He  set  out  early,  and  passed  several  arks.  A 


ALEXANDER  WILSON.  227 

number  of  turkeys,  which  he  observed  from  time  to  time  on  the 
Indiana  shore,  caused  him  to  lose  half  the  morning  in  search  of 
them.  On  the  Kentucky  shore  he  was  also  decoyed  by  the  same 
temptations,  but  could  never  approach  near  enough  to  shoot  one 
of  them.  These  affairs  led  to  so  much  delay,  that  he  became  du- 
bious whether  he  should  be  able  to  reach  Louisville  that  night. 
Night  came  on,  and  he  could  hear  nothing  of  the  Falls ;  about 
eight  o'clock  he  first  heard  the  roaring  of  the  rapids,  and  as  it  in- 
creased he  was  every  moment  in  hopes  of  seeing  the  lights  of 
Louisville ;  but  no  lights  appeared,  and  the  noise  seemed  now 
within  less  than  half  a  mile's  distance.  Seriously  alarmed  lest 
he  might  be  drawn  into  the  suction  of  the  Falls,  he  cautiously 
coasted  along  shore,  which  was  full  of  snags  and  sawyers,  and  at 
length,  with  great  satisfaction,  reached  Bear-Grass  Creek,  where 
he  secured  his  skiff  to  a  Kentucky  boat,  and,  loading  himself  with 
his  baggage,  groped  his  way  through  a  swamp  up  to  the  town. 
The  next  day  Wilson  sold  his  skiff  for  exactly  half  what  it  cost 
him.  The  man  who  bought  it  expressed  his  surprise  at  its  droll 
Indian  name  (the  Ornithologist) :  "  Some  old  chief  or  warrior,  I 
suppose,"  said  he. 

From  Kentucky  Wilson  proceeded  to  Tennessee.  On  his  way 
he  passed  through  a  pigeon-roost,  or  rather  breeding-place,  which 
continued  for  three  miles,  and,  he  was  informed,  extended  in 
length  for  more  than  forty  miles.  The  timber  was  chiefly  beech  ; 
every  tree  was  laden  with  nests,  and  he  counted  in  different  places 
more  than  ninety  nests  on  a  single  tree.  Shortly  after  this  he 
fell  in  with  a  poor  unfortunate  soldier,  who  had  been  robbed  and 
plundered  by  the  Choctaws  while  passing  through  their  nation. 
"  Thirteen  or  fourteen  Indians,"  he  said,  "  surrounded  me  before 
I  was  aware,  cut  away  my  canteen,  tore  off  my  hat,  took  the 
handkerchief  from  my  neck  and  the  shoes  from  my  feet,  and  all 
the  money  I  had  from  me,  which  was  about  forty-five  dollars." 
Wilson  says  that  the  poor  fellow  looked  pretty  much  "done  up" 
The  caves  and  sink-holes  in  Kentucky  were  objects  of  great  curi- 
osity to  Wilson,  and  he  never  missed  an  opportunity  of  exploring 
them.  One  of  these  remarkable  places  belonged  to  a  mun  who 
had  a  notoriously  bad  character,  and  was  strongly  suspected,  even 
by  his  neighbors,  of  having  committed  a  foul  murder,  and  made 
use  of  this  identical  cave  as  a  place  of  concealment  for  the  body. 
As  this  man's  house  stood  by  the  road  side,  Wilson  was  induced 


228  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

by  motives  of  curiosity  to  stop  and  take  a  peep  at  him.  On  his 
arrival  he  found  two  persons  in  conversation  under  the  piazza,  one 
of  whom  informed  him  that  he  was  the  landlord.  He  was  a  dark 
mulatto,  rather  above  the  common  size,  inclining  to  corpulency, 
with  legs  small  in  proportion  to  the  other  parts  of  his  body,  and 
a  limp  in  his  gait.  His  countenance  bespoke  a  soul  capable  of 
deeds  of  darkness.  Wilson  had  not  been  three  minutes  in  his 
company  when  the  landlord  invited  the  other  man  and  Wilson  to 
walk  back  and  see  his  cave,  to  which  all  parties  assented.  The 
entrance  was  in  the  perpendicular  front  of  a  rock  behind  the 
house,  and  had  a  door  with  a  lock  and  key  to  it.  It  was  used 
us  a  cellar,  and  pots  of  milk  and  other  dairy  arrangements  were 
crowded  near  the  running  stream  which  passed  through  it.  The 
roof  and  sides  were  dripping  with  water.  Desiring  the  landlord 
to  walk  before  him  with  the  light,  Wilson  followed,  with  his  hand 
on  his  pistol,  reconnoitring  on  every  side,  and  listening  to  his  de- 
scription of  its  length  and  extent.  After  examining  this  horrible 
vault  for  forty  or  fifty  yards,  the  mulatto  declined  to  go  any  farther, 
complaining  of  rheumatism  in  his  black  legs.  Wilson  now  per- 
ceived, for  the  first  time,  that  the  landlord's  friend  had  not  accom- 
panied them,  and  that  they  were  alone.  Confident  in  his  means  of 
defense,  whatever  mischief  the  devil  might  suggest  to  his  compan- 
ion, he  fixed  his  eye  steadily  on  the  landlord,  and  observed  to  him 
that  he  could  not  be  ignorant  of  the  reports  circulated  about  the 
country  relative  to  that  cave.  "  I  suppose,"  said  he,  "  you  know 
what  I  mean."  "Yes,  I  understand  you,"  returned  the  mulatto, 
without  appearing  the  least  embarrassed — "  that  I  killed  some- 
body, and  threw  them  into  this  cave.  I  can  tell  you  the  whole 
beginning  of  that  damned  lie ;"  and,  without  moving  from  the  spot, 
he  entered  into  the  details  of  a  long  story.  When  this  labored 
exculpation  came  to  an  end,  Wilson  asked  him  why  he  did  not  get 
the  cave  examined  by  three  or  four  reputable  neighbors,  whose  re- 
port might  rescue  his  character  from  the  suspicion  of  having  com- 
mitted so  horrid  a  crime.  He  acknowledged  it  would  be  well 
enough  to  do  so,  but  did  not  seem  to  think  it  worth  the  trouble. 
At  Nashville,  Tennessee,  Wilson  remained  for  some  days,  busily 
engaged  in  making  a  set  of  drawings  of  all  the  birds  he  had  seen. 
These  were  forwarded  to  Mr.  Lawson,  being,  of  course,  intend- 
ed for  the  American  Ornithology.  Unfortunately,  they  were  nev- 
er received.  The  post-office  in  those  days  was  even  worse  than 


ALEXANDER  WILSON.  229 

it  is  now.  When  he  had  completed  his  arrangements,  Wilson 
made  preparations  for  a  visit  to  St.  Louis  ;  but,  being  detained  a 
week  by  constant  and  heavy  rains,  and  considering  that  it  would 
add  four  hundred  miles  to  his  journey,  and  detain  him  at  least  a 
month,  without  even  the  expectation  of  obtaini^  many  subscrib- 
ers, he  abandoned  the  idea,  and  prepared  instead  for  a  journey 
through  the  wilderness.  He  was  advised  by  many  not  to  attempt 
it  alone  ;  that  the  Indians  were  dangerous,  the  swamps  and  rivers 
almost  impassable  without  assistance.  All  sorts  of  arguments 
were  used  to  dissuade  him  from  going  alone.  He  weighed  all 
these  matters  in  his  own  mind,  and,  attributing  a  great  deal  to 
vulgar  fear  and  exaggerated  reports,  he  equipped  himself  for  the 
attempt.  He  had  an  excellent  horse,  on  which  he  could  depend ; 
a  loaded  pistol  in  each  pocket,  a  loaded  fowling-piece  belted  across 
his  shoulder,  a  pound  of  gunpowder  in  his  flask,  and  five  pounds 
of  shot  in  his  belt.  He  next  procured  some  dried  beef  and  biscuit, 
and  on  the  4th  of  May  left  Nashville.  Eleven  miles  from  this 
city  he  came  to  the  Great  Harpath,  a  stream  of  about  fifty  yards 
wide,  which  was  running  with  great  violence.  He  could  not  dis- 
cover the  entrance,  to  the  ford  owing  to  the  rains  and  inundations. 
There  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  so  he  plunged  in,  and  almost  imme- 
diately his  horse  was  swimming.  He  arrived  dn  the  other  side  in 
safety,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  riding  in  his  wet  clothes  until  the 
sun  made  them  dry.  He  repeated  this  experiment  several  times, 
and,  thanks  to  the  strength  of  his  horse,  always  with  success,  al- 
though at  tunes  he  was  nearly  knocked  from  his  seat  by  coming  in 
contact  with  drift-wood. 

On  the  borders  of  the  Indian  country  stands  the  house  where 
the  unfortunate  traveler,  Lewis,  committed  suicide.  Wilson  took 
down  from  the  landlady  the  particulars  of  that  event.  Gov- 
ernor Lewis,  she  said,  came  thither  about  sunset,  alone,  and  in- 
quired if  he  could  stay  for  the  night,  and,  alighting,  brought  his 
saddle  into  the  house.  He  was  dressed  in  a  loose  gown,  white, 
striped  with  blue.  On  being  asked  if  he  came  alone,  he  replied 
that  there  were  two  servants  behind,  who  would  soon  be  up.  He 
called  for  some  spirits,  and  drank  a  very  little.  When  the  serv- 
ants arrived,  one  of  whom  was  a  negro,  he  inquired  for  his  pow- 
der, saying  he  was  sure  he  had  some  powder  in  a  canister.  The 
servant  gave  no  distinct  reply,  and  Lewis,  in  the  mean  while, 
walked  backward  and  forward  before  the  door,  talking  to  himself. 


230  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

Sometimes,  she  said,  he  would  seem  as  if  he  were  walking  up  to 
her,  and  would  suddenly  wheel  round,  and  walk  back  as  fast  as 
he  could.  Supper  being  ready,  he  sat  down,  but  had  eaten  only 
a  few  mouthfuls  when  he  started  up,  speaking  to  himself  in  a  vio- 
lent manner.  At  these  times,  she  said,  she  observed  his  face  to 
flush,  as  if  it  had  come  on  him  in  a  fit.  He  lighted  his  pipe,  and, 
drawing  a  chair  to  the  door,  sat  down,  saying  to  Mrs.  Grinder  (the 
landlady),  in  a  kind  voice,  "  Madam,  this  is  a  very  pleasant  even- 
ing." He  smoked  his  pipe  for  some  time,  but  quitted  his  seat  and 
traversed  the  yard  as  before.  He  said  he  would  sleep  on  the  floor, 
and  his  servant  brought  bearskins  and  a  buffalo-robe,  which  were 
immediately  spread  out  for  him.  The  landlady  then  retired  to  the 
kitchen,  which  was  in  the  adjoining  apartment.  She  experienced 
some  alarm  at  the  strange  behavior  of  her  guest,  and  could  not 
sleep.  He  was  still  pacing  his  apartment  in  an  agitated  manner, 
and  talking  loud,  as  she  said,  "  like  a  lawyer."  Suddenly  she 
heard  the  report  of  a  pistol,  and  simultaneously  the  fall  of  a  heavy 
body  on  the  floor,  accompanied  with  the  agonized  exclamation, 
"Oh  Lord!"  Immediately  afterward  she  heard  the  report  of  an- 
other pistol,  and  in  a  few  minutes  she  heard  hkn  at  her  door  call- 
ing out,  "  Oh,  madam,  give  me  some  water  and  heal  my  wounds" 
The  logs  being  open  and  unplastered,  she  saw  him  stagger  back 
and  fall  against  a  stump  that  stands  between  the  kitchen  and  room. 
He  crawled  for  some  distance,  and  raised  himself  by  the  side  of  a 
tree,  where  he  sat  for  about  a  minute.  He  once  more  got  to  the 
room  ;  afterward  he  went  to  the  kitchen  door,  but  did  not  speak. 
She  then  heard  him  scraping  the  bucket  with  a  gourd  for  water, 
but  this  cooling  element  was  denied  the  dying  man.  The  woman 
was  so  completely  paralyzed  by  the  terrible  tragedy  that  she  did 
not  move  for  two  hours.  Servants  were  then  aroused,  and  on 
entering  the  room  they  found  the  poor  fellow  on  the  bed,  still  alive. 
He  uncovered  his  side,  and  showed  them  where  the  bullet  had 
entered.  A  piece  of  his  forehead  was  blown  off,  and  had  exposed 
the  brains  without  having  bled  much.  He  begged  they  would  take 
his  rifle  and  dispatch  him,  and  he  would  give  them  all  the  money 
he  had  in  his  trunk,  exclaiming,  "  I  am  no  coward ;  but  I  am  so 
strong — so  hard  to  die."  He  begged  the  servant  not  to  be  afraid 
of  him,  for  he  would  not  hurt  him.  In  this  dreadful  condition 
lie  remained  for  two  hours.  Just  as  the  sun  rose  above  the  trees 
his  mortal  sufferings  terminated.  Few  men  can  read  this  heart- 


ALEXANDER  WILSON.  .231 

rending  story  of  a  gallant  officer  without  deep  emotion.  It  made 
a  deep  and  sad  impression  on  Wilson,  who  gazed  now  upon  his 
grave  close  by  the  common  path.  He  gave  Grinder  money  to 
put  a  post-fence  round  it,  to  shelter  it  from  the  hogs  and  from 
the  wolves,  and  left  the  place  in  a  very  melancholy  mood.  The 
remaining  incidents  of  his  journey  through  the  wilderness  were 
not  remarkable,  except  toward  the  end,  when  he  was  attacked  by 
a  dysentery,  and  cured  himself,  as  he  supposed,  by  eating  raw  eggs. 
He  was  assailed,  also,  by  a  tremendous  storm  of  rain,  wind,  and 
lightning,  until  he  and  his  horse  were  both  blinded,  and  unable 
to  go  on.  Aware  of  his  danger,  he  sought  the  first  open  space, 
and,  dismounting,  stood  for  half  an  hour  under  the  most  profuse 
shower-bath  he  had  ever  experienced  from  above.  The  roaring 
of  the  storm  was  terrible ;  several  trees  around  him  were  broken 
off  and  torn  up  by  the  roots,  and  those  that  stood  were  bent  al- 
most to  the  ground.  Limbs  of  trees,  weighing  several  hundred 
pounds,  whisked  past  him  like  feathers.  He  was  astonished  how 
he  escaped,  and  said  afterward  that  he  would  rather  take  his 
chance  in  a  field  of  battle  than  in  such  a  storm. 

On  the  fourteenth  day  of  his  journey  he  arrived  at  Natchez, 
having  overcome  every  obstacle  alone,  and  without  being  ac- 
quainted with  the  country.  What  astonished  the  boatmen  even 
more  than  this  was  the  fact  that  the  journey  was  performed  with- 
out whisky.  From  Natchez  Wilson  proceeded  to  New  Orleans, 
where  he  arrived  on  the  6th  of  June.  The  approach  of  the  sick- 
ly season  warned  him  not  to  tarry  long  in  this  city,  and  accord- 
ingly, on  the  24th  he  embarked  in  a  ship  bound  for  New  York, 
where  he  arrived  on  the  30th  of  July,  and  soon  reached  Philadel- 
phia, laden  with  a  light  cargo  of  subscribers,  and  a  much  more 
valuable  one  of  ornithological  specimens,  many  of  which  were  en- 
tirely unknown  to  naturalists. 

In  the  early  part  of  1812,  Wilson  published  the  fifth  volume 
of  his  Ornithology,  and  the  following  volumes,  up  to  the  seventh, 
appeared  as  rapidly  as  the  nature  of  the  work  would  admit.  The 
difficulty  of  obtaining  efficient  assistance  became  very  embarrass- 
ing, and  exposed  Wilson  to  a  vast  amount  of  annoyance.  Pie  was 
compelled  to  color  many  of  the  plates  himself,  and  the  closeness 
with  which  he  applied  himself  to  this  task  was  no  doubt  prejudi- 
cial to  his  health.  As  soon  as  the  seventh  volume  made  its  ap- 
pearance, its  author  and  Mr.  Ord  (his  biographer)  set  out  on  an 


232  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

expedition  to  Great  Egg  Harbor,  New  Jersey,  where  they  re- 
mained for  nearly  four  weeks,  collecting  materials  for  the  eighth 
volume.  Immediately  on  his  return  to  Philadelphia  he  applied 
himself  with  fresh  enthusiasm  to  his  task,  and  by  August  had 
completed  the  letter-press  for  the  eighth  volume,  though  the 
whole  of  the  plates  were  not  finished.  The  confinement  and  in- 
tense application  which  this  demanded  were  more  than  his  frame 
could  sustain.  He  was  seized  with  a  fresh  attack  of  dysentery, 
and  after  suffering  under  it  for  ten  days,  died  on  the  23d  of  Au- 
gust, 18.1 3,  in.  the  forty-seventh  year  of  his  age.  His  remains 
were  deposited  in  the  cemetery  of  the  Swedish  Church,  in  the 
District  of  Southwark,  Philadelphia.  A  plain  marble  tomb  marks 
the  spot,  bearing  an  appropriate  inscription. 

That  the  industry  of  Wilson  was  equal  to  his  natural  talents 
is  proved  by  the, fact  that  in  little  more. than  seven  years,  "  with- 
out patron,  fortune,  or  recompense,"  he  accomplished  more  than 
the  combined  body  of  European  naturalists  had  achieved  in  a 
century.  We  need  no  further  evidence  of  his  unparalleled  in- 
dustry than  the  fact  that  of  two  hundred  and  seventy-five  spe- 
cies which  were  figured  and  described  in  his  American  Ornithol- 
ogy, ^/Z/ty-su:  had  not  been  taken  notice  of  by  any  former  natural- 
ist. In  estimating  this  devotion  to  science,  we  must  bear  in  mind 
the  disadvantages  under  which  he  labored.  By  the  terms  of  his 
contract  with  his  publishers,  he  bound  himself  to  supply  all  the 
drawings  and  letter-press  necessary  for  the  work  ;  notwithstand- 
ing which,  we  find  him,  immediately  after  the  publication  of  the 
first  volume,  undertaking  all  the  hardships  and  annoyances  of  a 
canvasser.  On  his  journey,  to  be  sure,  he  gained  valuable  speci- 
mens, and  contributed  to  his  general  ornithological  knowledge, 
but  he  was  unable  to  proceed  in  the  literary  portion  of  the  work. 
Long  before  the  seventh  volume  was  issued  the  publishers  felt 
disheartened.  The  success  of  the  work  did  not  satisfy  their  ex- 
pectations, and  to  continue  its  publication  became  merely  a  mat- 
ter of  professional  pride  with  them.  Wilson  could  not  be  un- 
mindful of  this  fact,  and  it  must  have  pained  him  sadly.  It  is, 
indeed,  remarkable  that,  in  spite  of  these  drawbacks,  he  perse- 
vered ;  but  they  account  for  the  willingness  with  which  he  un- 
dertook more  than  his  share  of  the  work.  He  was  anxious  to 
get  through  with  it  as  rapidly  as  possible,  dreading,  perhaps, 
that  the  enthusiasm  of  the  publishers  might  wane  at  any  mo- 


ALEXANDER  WILSON.  233 

luent,  or,  at  all  events,  desiring  to  relieve  them  of  an  unwelcome 
burden. 

"  Independent  of  that  part  of  his  work  which  was  Wilson's  par- 
ticular province,  viz.,  the  drawing  and  describing  of  his  subject?, 
he  was  necessitated,"  says  Mr.  Ord,  "  to  occupy  much  of  his  time 
in  coloring  the  plates ;  his  sole  resource  for  support  being  in  this 
employment,  as  he  had  been  compelled  to  relinquish  the  superin- 
tendence of  the  Cyclopaedia.  This  drudgery  of  coloring  the  plates 
is  a  circumstance  much  to  be  regretted,  as  the  work  would  have 
proceeded  more  rapidly  if  he  could  have  avoided  it.  One  of  his 
principal  difficulties,  in  effect,  and  that  which  caused  him  no 
small  uneasiness,  was  the  process  of  coloring.  If  this  could  have 
been  done  solely  by  himself,  or — as  he  was  obliged  to  seek  assist- 
ance therein — if  it  could  have  been  performed  immediately  under 
his  eye,  he  would  have  been  relieved  of  much  anxiety,  and  would 
have  better  maintained  a  due  equanimity,  his  mind  being  daily 
ruffled  by  the  negligence  of  his  assistants,  who  too  often,  through 
a  deplorable  want  of  skill  and  taste,  made  disgusting  caricatures 
of  what  were  intended  to  be  modest  imitations  of  simple  nature. 
Hence  much  of  his  precious  time  was  spent  in  the  irksome  em- 
ployment of  inspecting  and  correcting  the  imperfections  of  others. 
This  waste  of  his  stated  periods  of  labor  he  felt  himself  constrain- 
ed to  compensate  by  encroachments  on  those  hours  which  nature, 
conscious  of  her  rights,  claims  as  her  own — hours  which  she  con- 
secrates to  rest — which  she  will  not  forego  without  a  struggle, 
and  which  all  those  who  would  preserve  unimpaired  the  vigor  of 
their  mind  and  body  must  respect.  Of  this  intense  and  destruct- 
ive application  his  friends  failed  not  to  admonish  him,  but  to 
their  kind  remonstrances  he  would  reply  that  '  life  is  short,  and 
without  exertion  nothing  can  be  performed.'  But  the  true  cause 
of  this  extraordinary  toil  was  his  poverty" 

And  thus  Alexander  Wilson  died  from  over-exertion  in  trying 
to  gain  a  living  by  coloring  the  plates  of  that  work  which  was 
destined  to  make  his  name  illustrious. 


EDMUND  CARTWRIGHT. 

AMONG  the  names  of  those  eminent  inventors  who  have  given 
to  the  useful  arts  and  to  manufactures  their  present  importance — 
who  have  hi  the  most  direct  and  perceptible  way  benefited  the 
civilization  of  the  world — the  name  of  Edmund  Cartwright,  the 
inventor  of  the  power-loom,  deserves  to  be  borne  in  warm  and 
grateful  remembrance.  Although  not  strictly  a  self-made  man,  he 
owes  his  reputation  entirely  to  himself,  and  as  he  obtained  this  at 
an  advanced  period  of  life,  his  story  furnishes  the  instructive  les- 
son that  it  is  never  too  late  to  exert  the  highest  faculties  of  the 
mind,  even  when  they  have  been  occupied  in  utterly  different 
pursuits  to  those  to  which  they  are  now  newly  called. 

Edmund  Cartwright  was  born  in  the  year  1743,  at  Marnham, 
in  the  county  of  Nottingham,  England.  His  family  was  ancient 
and  respectable,  although  in  somewhat  reduced  circumstances. 
Being  intended  for  the  Church,  Edmund  had  more  than  ordinary 
care  bestowed  on  his  education.  After  leaving  the  school  at 
Wakefield,  he  was  sent  to  University  College,  Oxford,  and  sub- 
sequently was  elected  a  fellow  of  Magdalen  College.  When  the 
time  arrived  for  taking  holy  orders,  he  was  appointed  to  the  liv- 
ing of  Brampton,  near  Chesterfield,  and  afterward  of  Goadby- 
Marwood  in  Leicestershire.  At  an  early  age  he  displayed  some 
literary  -ability,  and  published,  anonymously,  a  collection  of  poet- 
ical-pieces. In  1770  he  published,  in  his  own  name,  a  legend- 
ary poem  entitled  "  Armida  and  Elvira,"  which  was  received  with 
much  favor,  and  passed  through  several  editions  in  a  short  time. 
He  wrote,  also,  the  "  Prince  of  Peace,"  and  sonnets  to  "  Emi- 
nent Men."  After  this  he  became  a  regular  contributor  to  the 
"  Monthly  Review,"  and  a  literary  correspondent  with  many  em- 
inent persons. 

In  these  congenial  and  tranquil  callings  Cartwright' s  life  pass- 
ed away  peacefully  and  profitably  until  his  fortieth  year.  .  Hap- 
pening to  be  at  Matlock  in  the  summer  of  1784,  he  fell  in  com- 
pany with  some  Manchester  gentlemen,  whose  conversation  was 
destined  to  change  the  whole  tenor  of  his  life.  They  talked  of 


EDMUND  CARTWR1GHT.  235 

manufacturing,  and  especially  of  Arkwright's  spinning  machinery. 
One  of  the  company  observed  that,  as  soon  as  Arkwright's  pat- 
ent expired,  so  many  mills  would  be  erected,  and  so  much  cot- 
ton spun,  that  hands  would  never  be  found  to  weave  it.  To  this 
the  listener  replied  that  Arkwright  must  then  set  his  wits  to  work 
to  invent  a  weaving-mill.  This  led  to  a  conversation  on  the  sub- 
ject, in  which  the  Manchester  gentlemen  unanimously  agreed  that 
the  thing  was  impracticable,  "and  in  defense  of  their  opinion  they 
adduced  arguments  which  Cartwright  was  certainly  incompetent 
to  answer,  or  even  to  comprehend,  being  totally  ignorant  of  the 
subject,  having  never,  at  the  time,  seen  a  person  weave.  He  con- 
troverted, however,  the  impracticability  of  the  thing  by  remark- 
ing that  there  had  been  lately  exhibited  in  London  an  automaton 
figure  which  played  at  chess.  "Now  you  will  not  assert,  gen- 
tlemen," said  Cartwright,  "  that  it  is  more  difficult  to  construct  a 
machine  that  shall  weave,  than  one  that  shall  make  all  the  vari- 
ety of  moves  that  are  required  in  that  complicated  game."  Some 
time  afterward,  a  particular  conversation  recalled  this  conversa- 
tion to  his  mind.  It  struck  him  that,  as  in  plain  weaving,  ac- 
cording to  the  conception  he  then  had  of  the  business,  there  could 
only  be  three  movements,  which  were  to  follow  each  other  in  suc- 
cession, there  could  be  little  difficulty  in  producing  and  repeating 
them.  Full  of  these  ideas,  he  immediately  employed  a  carpenter 
and  smith  to  carry  them  into  effect.  As  soon  as  the  rough  model 
was  finished,  he  got  a  weaver  to  put  in  the  warp,  which  was  of 
such  materials  as  sailcloth  is  usually  made  of.  To  his  great  de- 
light, a  piece  of  rough  cloth  was  the  result.  His  delight  was  un- 
bounded, for  it  proved  that  his  theory  was  correct.  As  he  had 
never  before  turned  his  thoughts  to  mechanism,  either  in  theory 
or  practice,  nor  had  seen  a  loom  at  work,  nor  knew  any  thing  of 
its  construction,  it  will  be  readily  supposed  that  his  machine  was 
a  rough  one.  The  warp  was  laid  perpendicularly,  the  reed  fell 
with  a  force  of  at  least  half  a  hundred  weight,  and  the  springs 
which  threw  the  shuttle  were  strong  enough  to  have  thrown  a 
Congreve  rocket.  It  required  the  strength  of  two  powerful  men 
to  work  the  machine  at  a  slow  rate  and  only  for  a  short  time. 
"  Conceiving,  in  my  simplicity,"  says  Cartwright,  "  that  I  had  ac- 
complished all  that  was  required,  I  then  secured  what  I  thought 
a  most  valuable  property  by  a  patent,  dated  4th  of  April,  1785. 
This  being  done,  I  then  condescended  to  see  how  other  people 


236  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

wove,  and  you  will  guess  my  astonishment  when  I  compared  their 
easy  modes  of  operation  with  mine.  Availing  myself,  however, 
of  what  I  then  saw,  I  made  a  loom,  in  its  general  principles  near- 
ly as  they  are  now  made ;  but  it  was  not  till  the  year  1787  that 
I  completed  my  invention,  when  I  took  out  my  last  weaving  pat- 
ent, August  the  1st  of  that  year."  Mr. Cartwright  made  an  im- 
provement in  this  loom  subsequently,  by  which  patterns  in  checks 
could  be  executed  with  beautiful  precision. 

Notwithstanding  the  obvious  advantages  of  Mr.  Cartwright's 
machinery,  there  was  great  difficulty  in  introducing  it,  mainly 
Owing  to  the  opposition  of  the  laboring  classes,  who  imagined  that 
their  simple  lives  would  be  ground  out  by  the  iron  monster.  A 
factory  was  erected  at  Doncaster  by  some  of  Cartwright's  friends, 
in  which  he  had  an  interest,  but  it  was  unsuccessful.  Another 
establishment,  fitted  up  with  five  hundred  looms  on  the  new  prin- 
ciple, was  set  upon  by  an  exasperated  mob  and  utterly  destroyed. 
The  inventors  of  labor-saving  machines  have  always  these  mass- 
ive difficulties  to  deal  with  and  to  overcome.  In  Cartwright's 
case  it  took  some  years,  but  he  lived  to  see  his  machines  in  full 
favor,  and  to  know  that  they  performed  the  labor  of  two  hundred 
thousand  men. 

Cartwright's  next  invention  was  to  comb  wool  by  machinery. 
Here,  again,  he  was  met  by  popular  opposition,  and  not  only  this, 
but  by  fraudulent  attempts  to  evade  his  rights.  The  machines, 
however,  triumphed,  and  came  into  general  use.  Dr.  Cartwright 
now  exercised  his  ingenuity  in  a  variety  of  ways,  giving  himself 
up  entirely  to  the  pleasant  excitement  of  invention.  He  took  out 
more  patents,  and  received  several  premiums  from  the  Society  for 
the  Encouragement  of  Arts  and  the  Board  of  Agriculture.  The 
steam-engine  engaged  much  attention,  and  he  used  to  tell  his  son 
(how  prophetically  time  has  proved)  that,  if  he  lived  to  be  a  man, 
he  would  see  both  ships  and  land-carriages  impelled  by  steam. 
"  It  is  also  certain,"  says  Mr.  Craik,  "  that  at  that  early  period 
he  had  constructed  a  model  of  a  steam-engine  attached  to  a  barge, 
which  he  explained,  about  the  year  1793,  in  the  presence  of  his 
family,  to  Robert  Fulton,  then  a  student  of  painting  under  West. 
Later  in  life,  Cartwright  engaged  himself  in  the  construction  of  a 
steam-carriage  to  run  on  common  roads,  but  death  prevented  the 
completion  of  his  plans.  This  event  took  place  in  October,  1823. 
He  continued  his  mechanical  and  philosophical  experiments  up  to 


EDMUND  CARTWRIGHT.  237 

the  last  with  unabated  vigor,  and  enjoyed  excellent  health,  men- 
tal and  physical.  On  the  anniversary  of  his  77th  year,  he  wrote 
to  his  brother,  "  I  this  day  entered  into  my  77th  year  in  as  good 
health  and  spirits,  thank  God,  as  I  have  done  on  any  one  birth- 
day for  the  last  hah0  century.  I  am  moving  about  my  farm  from 
eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  till  four  in  the  afternoon,  without 
suffering  the  least  fatigue." 

Some  curious  things  are  related  of  Cartwright,  which  tend  to 
prove  that  he  was  a  very  absorbed  or  a  very  forgetful  man.  He 
would  sometimes  lose  all  memory  of  his  own  inventions  and  oth- 
er productions  of  an  early  date,  even  when  his  attention  was  par- 
ticularly called  to  them.  On  one  occasion  a  daughter  repeated 
some  lines  from  a  poem.  "They  are  beautiful,  child  ;  where  did 
you  meet  with  them  ?"  he  asked ;  and  it  was  with  the  greatest 
astonishment  he  heard  they  were  from  his  own  poem  of  the 
"  Prince  of  Peace."  At  another  time,  being  shown  the  model  of 
a  machine,  he  examined  it  with  great  attention,  and  at  last  ob- 
served that  the  inventor  must  have  been  a  man  of  great  ingenu- 
ity, and  that  he  himself  should  feel  very  proud  if  he  had  been 
the  author  of  the  contrivance  ;  nor  could  he  be  immediately  con- 
vinced that  such  was  actually  the  fact.  "VVe  give  these  anecdotes 
for  what  they  are  worth,  merely  remarking  that  they  are  curious. 

Defective  specifications,  loose  patents,  and  greedy  imitators  all 
combined  to  rob  Cartwright  of  the  just  reward  of  his  ingenuity. 
From  his  power-loom — the  most  important  of  all  his  inventions 
— he  received  little  or  nothing  in  the  way  of  remuneration,  cer- 
tainly nothing  to  compensate  him  for  the  loss  he  sustained  at  the 
fire  where  five  hundred  of  these  machines  were  destroyed.  After 
the  expiration  of  the  patent,  however,  a  number  of  manufactur- 
ers and  merchants,  who  recognized  his  claim  to  the  invention, 
presented  a  memorial  to  the  Lords  of  the  Treasury  setting  forth 
the  merits  of  his  improvements,  and  begging  that  the  national 
bounty  might  be  bestowed  upon  him.  In  consequence  of  this  and 
other  applications  in  his  favor,  the  sum  of  fifty  thousand  dollars  • 
was  soon  after  granted  to  him  by  Parliament,  "  in  consideration 
of  the  good  service  he  had  rendered  the  public  by  his  invention 
of  weaving."  This  sum,  large  as  it  appears,  was  smaller  than  he 
had  expended  on  his  products,  but  it  enabled  him  to  pass  the  re- 
mainder of  his  life  in  comfortable  retirement,  and  in  a  manner 
suited  to  his  tastes  and  education.  He  was  eighty-one  years  of 
age  at  the  time  of  his  death. 


COUNT    RUMFORD. 

BENJAMIN  THOMPSON,  more  widely  known  by  his  title  of 
Count  Rumford,  was  born  at  Woburn,  in  the  colony  of  Massa- 
chusetts, t»n  the  26th  of  March,  1753.  At  an  early  age  he  was 
sent  to  the  public  school  of  his  native  town,  where  he  speedily 
acquired  a  knowledge  of  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic,  so  that 
in  a  little  time  the  woTthy  pedagogue  of  the  establishment  had 
no  more  knowledge  to  impart  to  his  greedy  scholar.  It  became 
necessary,  therefore,  to  remove  him  to  a  private  establishment, 
where  a  more  exclusive  kind  of  tuition  could  be  obtained.  He  is 
?aid  to  have  made  rapid  progress  in  the  study  of  astronomy,  and 
also  in  the  mathematics. 

At  the  age  of  sixteen  young  Thonfpson  took  his  place  on  the 
high  stool  of  a  counting-room,  and  became  a  punctual  and  observ- 
ant clerk ;  but  the  routine  of  the  occupation  was  not  in  accord- 
ance with  his  tastes,  and  he  diversified  it  by  continuing  his  studies 
in  astronomy  and  the  physical  sciences.  He  was  an  extremely  in- 
genious lad — a  natural  mechanic,  to  whom  tools  were  as  so  many 
additional  hands.  Among  his  early  achievements,  his  biographers 
dwell  on  an  engraved  label  which  he  executed  for  his  books,  and 


COUNT  RUMFORD.  239 

which  they  assert  was  the  first  work  of  the  kind  ever  done  in 
America.  The  design  was  extremely  luxuriant,  and  must  have 
cost  young  Thompson  an  immense  amount  of  trouble  and  patience. 
When  the  Stamp  Act  was  repealed — this  is  another  story  related 
of  our  hero — Thompson  undertook  to  manufacture  a  quantity  of 
fireworks  to  fire  off  in  honor  of  the  American  triumph.  He  knew 
all  about  the  proper  mixtures  for  producing  the  gay  display,  but 
he  seems  to  have  been  strangely  ignorant  of  the  great  danger  of 
packing  and  preparing  them.  An  apothecaries'  shop  was  selected 
as  the  most  handy  laboratory,  and  Thompson  set  about  his  task 
with  his  usual  earnestness.  As  might  be  expected,  an  explosion 
took  place ;  the  unfortunate  operator  was  seriously  injured,  and 
had  to  be  removed  to  his  mother's  house,  where  he  remained  sev- 
eral weeks  in  a  critical  state.  The  town  of  Salem  (where  he  was 
employed)  had  to  go  without  its  pyrotechnical  display. 

When  he  had  recovered  from  the  effects  of  this  accident,  he  re- 
turned to  his  desk  ;  but,  in  consequence  of  the  commercial  stagna- 
tion which  followed  the  non-importation  agreement,  his  employer 
had  no  farther  need  of  a  clerk,  and  Thompson  had  to  seek  his 
fortunes  in  a  new  sphere  of  action.  During  the  winter  of  1769, 
therefore,  he  taught  a  school  at  Wilmington,  and  did  not  resume 
commercial  pursuits  until  the  following  year,  when  he  received  an 
engagement  in  a  dry  goods  store  in  Boston.  This  was  of  short 
duration,  and  for  some  time  he  was  without  employment.  He 
made  the  most  of  his  spare  time,  however.  A  course  of  lectures 
were  being  delivered  at  Harvard  College  on  experimental  philoso- 
phy, and,  although  not  a  student  of  that  establishment,  he  obtained 
permission  to  hear  the  course,  and  derived  much  benefit  from  the 
experiments  which  he  saw  performed,  and  which  he  repeated  the 
moment  he  returned  to  his  lodgings. 

In  the  autumn  of  1770  he  was  intrusted  with  the  charge  of  the 
academy  at  Rumford  (now'called  Concord),  and  was  received  with 
great  favor  in  that  town.  Besides  being  accomplished,  he  was 
handsome  and  manly,  and  had  an  open,  frank  way  with  him  which 
won  all  hearts.  He  became,  in  consequence,  a  great  pet  with  the 
ladies,  and  especially  so  with  Mrs.  Rolfe,  the  widow  of  a  colonel, 
who  possessed  ah  estate  of  some  magnitude  for  those  days.  She 
was  considerably  Thompson's  senior,  but,  in  spite  of  this  drawback, 
retained  much  of  the  winning  way  of  youth,  and  was  enflnently  a 
charming  person.  The  result  was  a  perfectly  natural  one.  On  the 


240  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

closing  of  the  school  in  1772  Thompson  and  the  widow  proceeded 
together  to  Boston,  where  he  invested  his  limbs  in  a  magnificent 
suit  of  garments.  From  this  city  he  proceeded  to  astonish  the  little 
world  of  Woburn,  and,  on  presenting  himself  before  his  mother, 
won  from  her  the  reproachful  exclamation,  "  Why,  lien,  my  child ! 
how  could  you  spend  your  whole  winter's  wages  in  this  way?" 
Having  obtained  the  assent  of  his  parent,  he  returned  to  Rumford, 
and  was  immediately  wedded.  By  right  of  fortune  as  well  as  right 
of  intellect,  he  now  became  one  of  the  aristocracy  of  the  colonies. 
At  that  time  all  parties  were  more  or  less  convulsed  with  the  angry 
strife  occasioned  by  the  tyrannic  claims  of  England,  but  Thompson 
does  not  appear  to  have  been  in  the  slightest  degree  affected  with 
them.-  He  abandoned  himself  apparently  to  the  enjoyment  of  his 
wealth,  and  freely  attended  all  the  places  of  amusement  and  fash- 
ionable resort.  He  had  worked  hard,  and  now  felt  disposed  to 
enjoy  a  little  recreation.  His  affable  manners  and  cultivated  mind 
enabled  him  to  make  acquaintance  with  the  most  prominent  men. 
Among  those  who  became  greatly  attached  to  him  was  Governor 
Wentworth.  On  the  first  opportunity,  he  proved  his  preference 
by  bestowing  on  Thompson  the  commission  of  major  in  a  regiment 
of  New  Hampshire  militia,  thus  raising  him  at  once  directly  over 
the  heads  of  all  the  captains  and  subalterns  of  the  corps.  It  may 
have  been  Governor  Wentworth's  wish  to  enlist  the  sympathies  of 
Ids  young  friend  in  the  cause  of  the  mother  country,  and,  although 
it  is  certain  he  did  not  entirely  succeed,  it  is  probable  his  liberal 
and  appreciative  policy  was  not  without  a  result.  We  may  safely 
conclude  that  Thompson  would  not  have  accepted  the  commission 
if  his  views  had  been  very  hostile  to  the  English  government.  At 
a  time  when  every  man  is  supposed  to  be  arrayed  on  one  side  or 
the  other  of  a  great  question,  moderation  and  neutrality  are  certain 
.to  excite  suspicion.  His  brother  officers  in  the  corps,  dissatisfied 
with  the  favoritism  of  his  promotion,  spread  all  sorts  of  rumors 
about  him,  and  endeavored  to  injure  his  popularity.  They  were 
successful  in  playing  on  the  excited  feelings  of  the  mob,  and  in 
November,  1774,  Thompson  received  an  intimation  that  his  life 
was  in  danger,  and  that  he  would  assuredly  be  tarred  and  feath- 
ered. There  was  no  resource  to  avert  the  danger  and  indignity 
but  to  escape  with  the  greatest  precipitation.  At  Woburn  he 
sought  n"is  first  refuge,  but  the  rumor  of  his  Tory  predilections 
had  preceded  him,  and  that  quiet  town  was  no  longer  safe.  From 


COUNT  RUMFORD.  241 

• 

"Woburn  he  removed  to  Charlestown,  where  he  remained  for  some 
months,  after  which  he  removed  to  Boston,  which  was  at  the  time 
garrisoned  by  the  British  army  under  Gage.  He  made  a  fresh 
attempt  to  return  to  Woburn  in  the  following  year,  under  the 
impression  that  the  excitement  against  him  had  subsided;  but  he 
was  not  long  in  discovering  his  mistake.  The  house  in  which  he 
lived  was  surrounded  by  an  armed  mob,  savage  with  the  fiercest 
hatred  against  Tories,  who  demanded  that  he  might  be  brought 
forth.  Fortunately,  a  conspicuous  patriot  resided  in  the  same 
building,  and,  owing  to  his  timely  intervention,  the  major  was 
.saved  from  the  tender  mercies  of  his  enemies.  That  he  deeply 
felt  the  indignities  to  which  he  was  exposed,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  danger,  is  proved  by  the  course  he  subsequently  adopted. 
Feeling  his  own  innocence,  he  demanded  from  the  provisional 
government  of  the  colonies  a  trial.  He  was  placed  in  arrest,  and 
advertisements  were  inserted  in  the  papers  inviting  all  who  knew 
any  thing  against  him  to  appear.  The  necessity  for  this  bold  step 
was  increased  by  the  eagerness  Thompson  felt  to  join  the  cause 
of  his  country  at  the  head  of  his  regiment. 

The  day  of  trial  arrived,  and  the  meeting-house  was  crowded. 
No  specific  charges  were  made  against  him,  but  his  hostility  to 
the  American  cause  was  argued  by  implication.  Thus  it  was  as- 
serted that  he  had  hired  two  British  soldiers,  who  had  deserted, 
to  work  on  his  farm  ;  that,  when  he  was  in  Boston,  these  men  be- 
ing desirous  to  return  to  their  allegiance,  he  had  interceded  with 
the  British  general  to  avert  the  punishment  which  the  army  award- 
ed to  deserters,  in  consequence  of  which  intercession  the  men 
did  return.  Thompson  defended  himself  on  broad  philanthropic 
grounds,  and  the  court  declared  that  it  could  not  condemn  him, 
but,  as  a  concession  to  the  popular  excitement,  it  refused  to  exon- 
erate him  entirely  from  blame,  or  give  him  a  full  acquittal.  This 
course  he  denounced  upon  the  spot,  and  immediately  petitioned 
the  Committee  of  Safety,  by  whom  the  matter  was  referred  to  the 
Provincial  Congress.  The  latter  refused  to  grant  the  petition. 

It  is  creditable  to  Thompson  that,  instead  of  seeking  safety 
within  the  lines  of  the  enemy,  he  retired  to  the  camp  of  his  own 
countrymen,  who  were  by  this  time  engaged  in  the  siege  of  Bos- 
ton. Here  he  employed  himself  in  drilling  the  undisciplined  re- 
cruits, and  in  making  himself  generally  useful ;  but  the  obloquy 
which  attached  to  his  name  could  not  be  removed  even  by  this 

L 


242  *  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

•• 

devotion.  He  soon  discovered  that  there  was  no  hope  of  promo- 
tion for  him ;  that  he  was  an  object  of  suspicion ;  and  that  he 
could  not  move  from  place  to  place  within  the  lines  of  the  army. 
Dispirited  and  wounded  in  his  susceptibilities,  it  is  not  remarka- 
ble that  he  wearied  of  this  hopeless  struggle  against  prejudice,  and 
resolved  to  leave  an  army  which  would  not  even  look  on  him  as  a 
friend.  His  preparations  for  departure  were  conducted  without 
the  slightest  attempt  at  secrecy.  He  converted  into  money  all 
the  property  he  could  dispose  of,  paid  off  his  debts,  and  about  the 
10th  of  October,  1775,  left  Cambridge.  From  that  time  to  the 
close  of  the  Revolutionary  struggle  his  friends  and  relatives  were 
without  any  positive  tidings  of  his  fate. 

After  leaving  Cambridge,  Thompson  proceeded  to  Newport, 
probably  with  the  intention  of  escaping  by  sea.  Here  he  found  a 
boat  belonging  to  the  British  ship  Scarborough,  on  board  of  which 
he  was  received.  He  appears  to  have  remained  in  this  vessel  for 
several  days,  and  then  took  passage  in  her  to  Boston.  It  is  incred- 
ible that  he  went  to  this  city  of  his  own  free  will ;  we  must  rather 
suppose  that  he  shipped  himself  on  board  the  Scarborough  under 
the  impression  that  she  was  bound  for  some  foreign  port,  and  that 
he  only  discovered  his  mistake  when  it  was  too  late  to  correct  it. 
Certain  it  is  that  he  went  to  Boston ;  was  landed  there,  and  re- 
mained in  the  city  during  all  the  operations  of  the  American  army, 
even  to  the  moment  of  their  triumphal  entry.  So  securely  was  he 
hidden,  however,  that  his  nearest  friends  were  unconscious  of  his 
whereabouts.  During  his  stay  in  Boston  he  renewed  his  acquaint- 
ance with  the  English  commander-in-chief  (who  was  himself  mar- 
ried to  an  American  lady),  and  appears  to  have  won  the  confidence 
of  that  officer.  We  have  no  evidence  that  Thompson  was  em- 
ployed against  his  countrymen.  If  he  harbored  some  resentment 
against  them  for  the  cruel  way  in  which  he  had  been  treated, 
it  is  scarcely  probable  that  it  went  to  the  extent  of  hostility  to 
their  interests,  or  of  unnatural  hatred  to  the  country  of  his  birth. 
Much  as  we  must  regret  the  situation  in  which  we  now  find  him, 
we  can  not  think  that  there  was  any  vengeful  triumph  in  it. 

When  it  became  necessary  to  evacuate  Boston,  it  became  also 
necessary  to  send  dispatches  to  England,  informing  the  govern- 
ment of  that  necessity.  Few  officers  were  anxious  to  have  this 
unpleasant  commission  intrusted  to  them,  and  the  commanding 
general  was  unwilling  to  part  with  men  who  might  be  serviceable 


COUNT  RUMFORD.  243 

i 

to  him  and  the  royal  cause.  In  this  emergency  he  had  recourse 
to  Major  Thompson,  to  whom  he  intrusted  his  dispatches,  and 
who  immediately  sailed  for  England  in  the  ship  that  had  conveyed 
him  from  Newport. 

In  due  time  Thompson  was  introduced  to  Lord  George  Ger- 
maine,  Secretary  of  State  for  the  Colonies,  and  delivered  his  dis- 
patches. Lord  George  was  struck  with  the  personal  appearance 
of  Thompson,  and,  finding  him  well  informed,  offered  him  employ- 
ment in  the  department  over  which  he  presided,  probably  with 
the  view  of  obtaining  exact  information  concerning  the  resources 
and  temper  of  the  colonies.  The  offer  was  too  flattering  to  be 
rejected  by  Thompson  in  his  present  hapless  state,  and  he  closed 
with  it  without  hesitation.  No  part  of  a  man's  experience  is  use- 
less. Thompson  soon  found  that  his  business  knowledge,  picked 
up  in  the  counting-room  and  store,  were  of  inestimable  value  in  a 
sphere  which  seldom  employed  business  men.  He  was  able  to  get 
through  a  vast  amount  of  work  in  a  very  short  time,  and  became 
so  eminently  useful  and  reliable,  that  in  less  than  four  years  he 
was  promoted  to  the  highest  place  in  the  department.  Thrown 
in  this  way  among  the  best-informed  circles  of  the  country,  with 
ample  means  to  maintain  his  position,  he  found  opportunity  once 
more  to  return  to  his  philosophical  pursuits.  He  became  a  regu- 
lar attendant  at  the  Royal  Society's  meetings,  and  soon  afterward 
contributed  to  their  "  Transactions." 

When  Lord  Germaine  retired  from  the  administration,  he  did 
not  forget  the  services  of  Thompson,  but  obtained  for  him  a  com- 
mission as  major  in  a  regiment  which  had  been  lately  formed, 
composed  mostly  of  American  Tories  who  had  sought  refuge  in 
England,  or  been  employed  under  English  colors  in  America.  In  a 
short  time  he  was  promoted  to  the  rank  of  lieutenant  colonel.  He 
embarked  for  America,  but,  we  are  happy  to  say,  returned  when 
there  was  no  longer  an  occasion  to  lift  his  hand  against  the  land  of 
his  birth.  There  being  no  employment  for  his  regiment,  he  obtain- 
ed leave  of  absence,  and  made  a  tour  into  Germany,  with  the  inten- 
tion, it  is  said,  of  offering  his  services  to  the  Emperor  of  Austria. 
On  the  journey  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  make  the  acquaintance 
of  Prince  Maximilian  of  Deux-Ponts,  afterward  King  of  Bavaria, 
who,  learning  his  design  to  enter  the  Austrian  army,  recommend- 
ed him  to  visit  Munich  and  inquire  whether,  in  the  employ  of  Ba- 
varia, he  might  not  find  a  quicker  and  better  scope  for  his  talents. 


244  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

He  gave  him  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the  Elector,  and,  armed 
with  this,  Thompson  proceeded  to  Munich.  His  serene  highness 
received  him  with  favor,  and  offered  him  an  instant  appointment, 
holding  out  many  inducements  for  him  to  remain ;  but  Thomp- 
son seems  to  have  been  more  strongly  inclined  toward  Austria 
than  he  at  first  supposed,  and  determined,  under  any  circumstan- 
ces, to  visit  Vienna.  In  this*  city  he  remained  some  time,  re- 
ceiving frequent  communications  from  the  Elector  urging  him  to 
return  to  Munich.  ^At  length  Thompson  consented  to  do  so  on 
condition  that  he  could  obtain  permission  of  the  King  of  England 
to  accept  service  under  a  foreign  potentate.  The  permission  was 
at  once  granted,  and  the  fortunate  lieutenant  colonel  was  allowed 
to  retire  on  half  pay.  The  English  government,  to  mark  its  sense 
of  the  services  he  had  rendered,  also  conferred  on  him  the  honor 
of  knighthood.  Thus  provided  with  an  income  for  life  and  a 
title^  he  returned  to  Munich  toward  the  close  of  the  year  1784. 
He  was  at  once  appointed  aid-de-camp  and  chamberlain  to  the 
reigning  prince.  >' 

Thompson's  first  exertions  for  the  good  of  his  new  prince  was 
to  regenerate  the  army,  which  had,  through  neglect  and  abuse, 
sunk  to  a  very  low  condition.  In  a  short  time  he  succeeded 
in  introducing  a  system  of  discipline  which  was  at  once  thor- 
ough and  radically  effective.  He  then  turned  his  attention  to 
the  artillery  force  of  the  army,  and  by  introducing  a  new  system 
of  tactics,  and  new  contrivances  for  moving  the  carriages,  etc., 
made  it  the  finest  corps  in  Europe.  These  labors  were  so  suc- 
cessful, and  so  entirely  in  accordance  with  the  wishes  of  the 
Elector,  that  he  at  once  promoted  Thompson  to  the  Council  of 
State,  and  made  him  also  major  general  in  the  army.  The  sci- 
entific men  of  the  electorate  honored  him  also  by  admitting  him 
as  a  member  of  the  two^  academies  of  Munich  and  Manheim.  A 
brief  recapitulation  of  other  honors  bestowed  on  him  during  his 
stay  in  Germany  may  not  here  be  out  of  place.  In  1787  he  was 
elected  a  member  of  the  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Berlin ;  he  was 
(in  Bavaria)  elevated  to  the  rank  of  commander-in-chief  of  the 
general  staff,  minister  of  war,  and  superintendent  of  the  police  of 
the  electorate  ;  he  was  for  a  time  chief  of  the  regency  that  exer- 
cised sovereignty  during  the  absence  of  the  Elector,  and  was  cre- 
ated Count  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  by  Leopold.  At  his  own 
solicitation,  he  selected  as  his  title  the  name  of  the  residence  of 
his  wife,  and  became  Count  of  Rumford. 


COUNT  RUMFORD,  245 

We  now  turn  to  Thompson's  curious  philanthropic  and  philo- 
sophical career.  In  Bavaria,  at  that  time,  begging  was  one  of  the 
principal  conditions  of  life.  It  was  a  trade  assiduously  cultivated 
by  a  large  portion  of  the  population.  So  eager  and  pertinacious 
were  the  beggars,  that  they  followed,  the  citizen  into  his  house,  his 
store,  his  church.  It  was  impossible  to  shake  them  off;  they  had 
gained  courage  by  impunity,  and  actually  looked  on  their  profession 
as  a  legitimate  one.  Having  made  the  army  a  respectable  and  in- 
dustrious body  of  men,  Thompson  now  determined  to  reform  all 
the  sturdy  beggars,  and  win  them  to  ways  of  industry.  For  this 
purpose,  he  organized  a  general  descent  on  the  mendicant  commu- 
nity. New- Year's  day  was  selected  for  the  demonstration — a  day 
on  which  they  came  out  in  strong  force.  Before  night  every  beg- 
gar in  the  city  was  under  arrest.  They  were  conducted  to  the 
town  hall,  where  their  names  were  taken  down.  They  were  then 
dismissed,  with  instructions  to  present  themselves  the  next  day 
at  fhe  "  Military  Work-house,"  a  building  in  the  suburbs,  which 
Thompson  had  had  fitted  up  for  the  purpose,  where  they  would 
find  well-heated  rooms,  a  warm  dinner,  and  a  supply  of  work  pro- 
vided for  them.  They  were  told  that  they  would  not  be  allowed 
to  beg  in  the  streets  or  elsewhere ;  that  persons  were  appointed 
who  would  inquire  into  their  circumstances,  and  afford  them  what 
relief  they  needed.  To  insure  the  utter  annihilation  of  the  beg- 
ging system,  the  military  guards  stationed  throughout  the  city 
were  instructed  to  arrest  all  mendicants  found  in  the  streets,  and 
to  seek  for  those  who  failed  to  attend  at  the  appointed  place. 
The  next  day  not  a  beggar  was  to  be  seen  in  all  Munich ;  but 
at  the  military  work-shop  a  motley  crew  presented  itself,  ragged, 
hungry,  fierce,  and  dirty.  Great  confusion  prevailed  until  the 
various  cases  were  classified.  Some  were  set  to  work  immedi- 
ately ;  others  were  placed  under  the  charge  of  the  physician  ;  oth- 
ers were  exempted  from  labor,  and  supplied  with  the  necessary 
means  of  existence ;  but  no  one  was  allowed  to  go  out  into  the 
world  again  to  beg.  The  great  object  of  all  Thompson's  meas- 
ures was  to  elevate  the  poor  wretches  in  their  own  opinion.  Al- 
though arrested  in  the  first  instance,  they  were  not  locked  up  like 
criminals,  and  were  simply  dismissed  on  their  promise  to  return  the 
next  day.  In  the  work-shop  they  were  not  detained  if  they  could 
obtain  employment  elsewhere.  They  wore,  to  be  sure,  a  distinct- 
ive dress,  but  it  was  one  of  honor.  According  to  the  rules  of  the 


246  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

establishment,  all  new-comers  were  compelled  to  wear  their  old 
ragged  clothes  until,  by  good  conduct,  they  had  earned  the  privi- 
leged uniform.  It  became  necessary,  in  the  first  instance,  for  the 
purpose  of  instruction,  to  separate  husband  from  wife,  and  parents 
from  children ;  but,  so  soon  as  the  parents  were  found  worthy  of 
"being  trusted,  the  children  were  placed  under  their  direction,  and 
thus  the  halls  of  the  establishment  were  speedily  occupied  with 
family  groups. 

In  this  manner  begging  was  eradicated,  and  from  a  wretched 
community  of  mendicants  hundreds  of  valuable  workmen  were 
produced.  When  the  establishment  commenced  operations  it  had 
twenty-six  hundred  residents ;  in  less  than  five  years  the  number 
had  decreased  to  fourteen  hundred.  In  the  same  period,  the 
finances  were  elevated  from  a  loss  of  about  twenty-five  thousand 
dollars,  to  a  profit,  after  paying  wages  to  such  as  had  shown  them- 
selves worthy,  of  forty  thousand  dollars.  These  praiseworthy 
and  successful  efforts  were  properly  appreciated  by  the  objects*  for 
whom  they  were  made.  When  the  inmates  of  the  work -house  had 
thrown  off  the  dirt  and  sloth  of  their  former  habits,  they  began  to 
perceive  the  great  good  that  had  been  done  to  them,  and  to  recog- 
nize in  Thompson  a  benefactor  sent  for  their  especial  deliverance. 
He  became  the  object  of  the  sincerest  affection.  When  he  was 
seized  with  sickness,  all  the  inmates  of  the  work-house  went  in 
procession  to  the  Cathedral,  where,  at  their  request,  divine  service 
was  performed,  and  public  prayers  offered  for  his  recovery.  Four 
years  later,  when  the  news  of  his  being  ill  at  Naples  reached  Mu- 
nich, they  voluntarily  set  apart  an  hour  each  evening  to  join  in 
prayerful  supplications  for  his  recovery.  It  is  pleasant  to  read 
of  these  things,  and  to  believe  they  were  sincere,  so  often  does  it 
happen  in  the  world  that  those  whom  we  would  benefit  are  the 
first  to  turn  round  on  us  with  unjust  reproaches. 

Thompson's  career  in  Bavaria  was  that  of  a  beneficent  prince, 
eager  alike  for  the  dignity  of  his  country  and  the  happiness  of  his 
subjects.  All  his  plans  were  based  on  broad  and  comprehensive 
principles,  the  justice  of  which  only  needed  illustration  on  a  scale 
of  sufficient  magnitude  to  be  at  once  appreciated.  We  must  deny 
ourselves  the  pleasure  of  following  his  career,  and  will  barely  men- 
tion that,  during  the  remainder  of  his  stay  in  Bavaria,  he  estab- 
lished a  military  academy  at  Munich,  and  conducted  it  under  his 
own  immediate  auspices  for  six  years.  He  endeavored  to  improve 


COUNT  KUMFOKD.  247 

the  breed  of  horses  (which  at  that  time  was  very  shaggy  and  queer), 
for  which  purpose  he  imported  a  number  of  fine  mares  and  loaned 
them  to  the  farmers.  He  attempted,  in  like  manner,  to  improve 
the  breed  of  cattle,  and  with  decided  success.  In  carrying  into 
effect  these  various  schemes,  he  was  often  met  by  the  interested 
opposition  of  men  who  envied  his  popularity  and  position.  Hav- 
ing the  entire  confidence  of  the  prince,  he  was  able  to  beat  down 
this  factitious  opposition,  but  it  added  the  ingredient  of  trouble  to 
his  many  labors.  He  overtasked  himself,  and  his  constitution  be- 
gan to  show  signs  of  decay.  In  1794  he  obtained  leave  of  absence, 
and  visited  Italy  to  recruit  his  shattered  system ;  the  following 
year  he  paid  a  visit  to  England.  The  fame  of  his  career  had  pre- 
ceded him,  and  he  became  popular,  especially  with  committees  for 
improving  the  condition-  of  the  poor,  who  were  constantly  appeal- 
ing to  him  for  advice.  To  gratify  them,  and  render  a  service  to 
the  indigent  classes,  he  published  the  particulars  of  his  system  in 
Bavaria.  During  his  stay  he  enlightened  the  Londoners  on  the 
proper  way  of  curing  smoky  chimneys,  and  gave  them  some  new 
and  correct  notions  concerning  the  radiation  of  heat,  by  which 
their  fire-places  were  made  more  comfortable  and  economical.  At 
this  time,  too,  he  introduced  his  cooking-stove,  and,  according  to 
his  plans,  the  first  of  this  now  familiar  article  was  set  up  in 
America  (1798). 

In  1796,  Thompson  accepted  an  invitation  of  the  Secretary  of 
State  of  Ireland  to  visit  that  country,  for  the  purpose  of  giving 
his  advice  to  various  charitable  institutions.  A  philanthropist  of 
such  a  practical  turn  of  mind  was  not  only  a  rarity,  but  a  blessing. 
In  Dublin  and  other  cities  he  superintended  the  erection  of  va- 
rious establishments  for  benevolent  purposes.  The  now  common 
method  of  heating  by  steam  was  first  employed  by  him  in  a  laun- 
dry, where  the  apparatus  heated  the  irons,  warmed  the  water, 
aired  the  clothes,  and  cooked  the  dinners  of  the  laundresses. 

After  his  visit  to  Dublin,  Thompson  returned  suddenly  to 
Bavaria,  in  consequence  of  the  critical  position  in  which  that 
country  was  placed  by  the  war.  Standing  midway  between  the 
operating  points  of  Austria  and  France,  it  seemed  by  no  means 
improbable  that  Bavaria  would  be  the  field  of  battle  for  the 
contending  forces.  The  Elector,  alarmed  at  the  state  of  things, 
was  on  the  point  of  abandoning  his  capital  when  Thompson  ar- 
i  ived  in  Munich ;  in  deference  to  the  latter,  he  deferred  his  de- 


248       .  '  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

parture  for  eight  days,  and  then  ran  away  in  spite  of  all  per- 
suasion. Having,  however,  some  kind  of  respect  for  Thomp- 
son's courage  and  discretion,  he  appointed  a  Council  of  Regency, 
at  the  head  of  which  Thompson  was  placed.  Within  a  few  days 
the  Austrian  army  arrived,  but,  to  its  astonishment,  found  the 
gates  of  the  city  shut.  Batteries  were  immediately  constructed 
and  threats  uttered ;  but  Thompson  was  firm,  and  the  neutrality 
of  the  Bavarian  capital  was  maintained.  The  citizens  were  de- 
lighted, and  the  Elector  heaped  new  honors  on  his  favorite  when  he 
came  back,  which  was  after  all  the  danger  was  over.  Thopmson 
remained  two  years  longer  in  Bavaria  ;  but,  finding  that  his  health 
once  more  failed  him,  he  concluded  to  return  to  England,  the 
genial  climate  of  which  country  had  proved  so  beneficial  in  his 
previous  sickness.  As  an  expression  of  his  esteem,  the  Elector 
furnished  him  with  credentials  as  minister  plenipotentiary  and 
envoy  extraordinary  near  the  court  of  St.  James.  The  intention 
was  kindly,  but,  owing  to  the  laws  of  England,  which  will  not  rec- 
ognize a  change  of  allegiance  in  an  individual,  he  was  not  recog- 
nized in  his  diplomatic  capacity,  and  therefore  failed  to  obtain  the 
position  the  Elector  had  hoped  to  secure  for  him  within  the  ex- 
clusive circle  of  the  court. 

Instead,  therefore,  of  wasting  his  time  in  the  close  and. lazy  at- 
mosphere of  palaces,  he  devoted  himself  once  more  to  scientific 
pursuits.  At  this  time  the  Royal  Institution  was  not  in  exist- 
ence, and  the  idea  of  founding  it  had  been  but  just  promulgated. 
Thompson  was  precisely  the  man  to  give  practical  importance  to 
such  a  scheme.  To  his  exertions  and  influence  England  is  largely 
indebted  for  the  honor  which  this  institution — made  illustrious  by 
the  names  of  so  many  men  of  genius — has  shed  on  her  scientific 
annals.  While  he  was  busily  engaged  in  carrying  out  this  project, 
he  received  intelligence  of  the  death  of  his  old  friend  and  patron, 
the  Elector  Charles  Theodore  of  Bavaria.  His  successor  was  the 
same  Maximilian  Joseph  of  Deux-ponts  who  had  originally  fur- 
nished him  with  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the  Bavarian  court. 
This  prince,  having  belonged  to  the  opposition,  did  not  view  the 
popularity  of  Thompson  with  any  especial  favor.  He  was  easily 
influenced  by  the  representations  of  the  latter'*  enemies.  Thomp- 
son saw,  therefore,  that  any  farther  residence  in  Bavaria  would 
only  tend  to  angry  feeling  and  discomfort.  These  views  were 
confirmed  during  a  visit  which  he  made  after  the  peace.  Al- 


COUNT  RUMFOBD.  249 

though  received  with  every  politeness  and  consideration,  he  soon 
learned  that  it  was  not  the  intention  of  the  administration  to 
give  him  employment.  After  assisting  in  the  reorganization  of 
the  Bavarian  Academy  of  Sciences,  he  bade  a  final  adieu  to  the 
electorate,  and  made  a  tour  through  Germany,  Italy,  Switzerland, 
and  France.  Unfortunately,  there  is  no  record  of  his  adventures 
in  these  countries.  It  is  scarcely  probable  that  a  man  so  widely 
known  could  have  passed  from  place  to  place  without  some  kind 
of  valuable  experience,  or  without  coming  in  contact  with  leading 
men  of  similar  views,  philanthropic  and  philosophical,  with  him- 
self. 

In  Paris  Thompson  found  a  city  where  his  reputation  and  sci- 
entific attainments  gave  him  at  once  a  position  of  importance. 
He  appears  to  have  been  delighted  with  it,  and  with  reason.  In 
addition  to  the  fascinations  of  cultivated  intercourse,  he  discovered 
on  the  borders  of  the  scientific  world  a  lady  who  was  destined  to 
become  the  partner  of  his  joys  and  sorrows,  and  the  companion 
of  his  journey  down  the  valley  of  life.  He  had  lost  his  first  wife 
during  his  absence  in  Europe ;  Madame  Lavoisier  was  the  only 
woman  he  had  met  who  seemed  destined  to  fill  her  place  in  his 
aifections.  The  lady  was  well  to  do,  and,  by  virtue  of  her  de- 
ceased husband's  great  reputation,  occupied  an  elevated  position 
in  the  best  circles  of  Parisian  society.  A  mutual  attachment 
sprung  up  between  them,  which  resulted  in  an  indissoluble  union. 
The  date  of  the  wedding  is  not  known.  In  1804  Thompson  wrote 
to  his  mother  to  inform  her  of  the  event,  and  saying,  "The  lady  I 
am  to  espouse  is  four  years  younger  than  myself,  and  is  of  a  most 
amiable  and  respectable  character."  Immediately  after  his  mar- 
riage he  took  up  his  residence  at  madame's  country-seat  at  Au- 
teuil,  where  he  was  destined  to  pass  the  remainder  of  his  days. 

We  turn  now  to  the  record  of  his  philosophical  investigations  and 
discoveries.  Unfortunately,  many  of  Thompson's  papers  (which 
would  doubtless  have  thrown  considerable  light  on  these  subjects) 
were  stolen  from  him  during  a  visit  to  London.  "  On  my  return 
to  England,"  he  says,  "from  Germany  in  October,  1795,  after  an 
absence  of  eleven-  years,  I  was  stopped  in  my  post-chaise,  in  St. 
Paul's  Church-yard  in  London,  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and 
robbed  of  a  trunk  which  was  behind  my  carriage,  containing  all 
my  private  papers,  and  my  original  notes  arid  observations  on 
philosophical  subjects.  By  this  cruel  accident  I  have  been  de- 

L  2 


250  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

prived  of  the  fruits  of  the  labors  of  my  whole  life,  and  have  lost 
all  that  I  held  most  valuable.  This  most  severe  blow  has  left  an 
impression  on  my  mind  which  I  feel  that  nothing  will  ever  be 
able  entirely  to  remove." 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Thompson's  first  experiment  with 
gunpowder  was  of  a  kind  to  impress  the  force  of  that  combustible 
on  his  mind  in  an  extremely  unpleasant  manner.  To  this  acci- 
dent we  may  undoubtedly  attribute  his  subsequent  curiosity  on 
the  subject.  From  an  early  day  down  to  the  period  of  his  mili- 
tary career  in  Bavaria,  he  was  engaged  in  a  series  of  philosophical 
investigations,  having  in  view  the  projectile  force  of  gunpowder, 
and  how  to  economize  it.  One  of  his  first  papers,  published  in 
the  "  Transactions  of  the  Royal  Society,"  was  on  this  subject,  and 
the  conclusions  he  arrived  at  were  highly  important  to  artillery- 
men, miners,  and  others  who  use  gunpowder  as  a  means  of  ob- 
taining quick  and  remarkable  force.  These  conclusions  were  new, 
and  immediately  became  the  basis  of  practical  calculations  which 
ore  acted  upon  to  the  present  day. 

A  series  of  experiments  were  also  performed  by  him  in  relation 
to  the  capabilities  of  various  fabrics  to  absorb  moisture,  especially 
with  regard  to  clothing.  He  demonstrated,  what  experience  had 
already  taught,  that  woolen  goods  were  by  far  the  most  desirable 
for  persons  exposed  to  damp  climates,  or,  when  used  next  to  the 
skin,  for  persons  who  were  subject  to  profuse  perspiration  from 
heat.  Experiments  on  light  (a  favorite  subject  with  all  philoso- 
phers, but  treated  practically  by  Thompson)  followed.  His  in- 
vestigations were  confined  to,  1.  The  relative  quantities  of  light 
given  by  oil  and  tallow  in  lamps  and  candles ;  and,  2.  The  com- 
parative cost  of  the  substances  giving  equal  quantities  of  light. 
In  the  course  of  these  experiments  he  obtained  many  curious  re- 
sults then  unknown  to  science,  rendered  all  the  more  valuable  by 
their  adaptation  to  the  ordinary  purposes  of  life.  He  showed 
that  light  is  not  sensibly  diminished  by  passing  through  moderate 
distances  in  the  air ;  he  determined  the  quantities  of  light  lost  in 
passing  through  plates  of  glass,  and  by  reflection  from  mirrors ; 
and  determined  the  relative  quantities  of  different  substances  con- 
sumed in  the  production  of  a  certain  quantity  of  light.  The  re- 
sult of  his  experiments  was  that  he  considered  the  Argand  lamp 
the  most  economical.  While  conducting  these  experiments  he 
constructed  a  lamp  of  a  novel  kind,  the  light  from  which  was  so 


COUNT  RUMFORD.  251 

intense  that  the  workman  who  illuminated  it  for  the  first  time 
could  not  find  his  way  home  at  night,  in  consequence  of  the  blind- 
ness produced  by  its  extreme  brilliancy.  This  lamp  has  since  be- 
come famous,  but  bears  the  name  of  Bude  instead  of  Thompson, 
who  was  its  inventor.  Proceeding  farther  in  his  experiments,  he 
examined  the  action  of  light  in  reducing  the  oxides  of  silver  and 
gold,  phenomena  to  which  daguerreotypists  are  entirely  indebted 
for  their  art.  He  also  discovered  that  these  metals,  when  in  so- 
lution, may  be  reduced  by  charcoal,  ether,  the  essential  oils,  and 
gum.  It  is  barely  probable  that  the  nature  of  these  experiments 
and  their  value  will  be  appreciated  by  the  general  reader,  but  they 
were  sufficient  at  the  time  to  raise  Thompson's  name  to  the  high- 
est pinnacle  of  scientific  fame.  We  have  already  referred  to  his 
experiments  on  the  subject  of  heat,  first  instituted  with  a  view  to 
practical  utility.  Subsequently  he  continued  them  on  philosoph- 
ical principles,  and  obtained  explanations  of  "  the  more  import- 
ant and  extensive  operations  of  nature  upon  the  surface  of  the 
globe,  and  in  some  cases,  as  in  that  of  the  submarine  polar  cur- 
rents, predicted  what  fifty  years  of  subsequent  observation  have 
hardly  yet  exhibited  in  its  full  extent." 

To  the  prosecution  of  his  various  occupations  Thompson  brought 
to  bear  a  well-disciplined  and  perfectly  metnodical  mind.  He  had 
a  time  for  every  thing,  and  was,  in  consequence,  never  hurried. 
So  confirmed  was  he  hi  habits  of  industry  and  method,  that  it  was 
impossible  to  tear  him  from  his  accustomed  task.  His  death  took 
place  on  the  21st  of  August,  1814,  at  his  villa  hi  Auteuil,  in  the 
sixty-second  year  of  his  age.  It  was  occasioned  by  a  fever,  and 
accelerated  by  his  habits  of  method,  which  would  not  allow  him, 
on  this  occasion,  to  desert  his  favorite  occupations  for  the  quiet 
and  regimen  of  the  sick-chamber. 

By  marriage  and  otherwise  he  was  the  possessor  of  an  ample 
fortune,  and  before  and  after  his  death  made  several  public  dis- 
positions of  his  money.  He  instituted  prizes,  liberally  endowed, 
to  be  adjudged  by  the  Royal  Society  of  London  and  the  American 
Academy  of  Sciences,  for  the  most  important  discoveries  of  which 
light  and  heat  should  be  the  subject ;  he  bequeathed  an  annual 
sum  of  one  thousand  dollars,  together  with  the  reversion  of  other 
property,  to  Harvard  University,  for  the  purpose  of  founding  a 
professorship  to  teach  "  the  utility  of  the  physical  and  mathemat- 
ical sciences,  for  the  improvement  of  the  useful  arts,  and  for  the 


252  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

extension  of  the  industry,  prosperity,  happiness  and  well-being  of 
society."  Although  Thompson  proved  by  these  liberal  bequests 
that  he  remembered  and  was  attached  to  his  native  country,  he 
never  saw  it  from  the  time  of  his  first  departure.  At  one  time 
he  was  on  the  eve  of  returning,  but  circumstances  occurred  which 
prevented  his  fulfilling  the  intention.  He  had  one  daughter  by 
his  first  wife,  who  visited  him  in  England. 

In  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Munich  is  a  beautiful  ornamental 
park,  with  artificial  lakes  and  mountains,  and  a  great  variety  of 
splendid  trees  and  flowers.  It  is  a  place  of  recreation,  and  free 
to  the  public,  who  roam  there,  and  enjoy  the  fresh  breeze  and  the 
fine  scenery.  Thompson  caused  this  park  to  be  laid  out  and  ded- 
icated in  the  way  it  is.  The  people  were  so  thankful  for  the 
boon  that  they  caused  a  monument  to  be  erected  in  commemora- 
tion of  Thompson's  services  in  securing  it.  It  has  two  principal 
fronts  opposite  to  each  other,  ornamented  with  basso-relievos  and 
inscriptions.  On  one  side  is  an  inscription  in  the  German  lan- 
guage, of  which  the  following  is  a  literal  translation : 

"Stay,  Wanderer. 
At  the  creative  fiat  of  Charles  Theodore, 

Rumford,  the  friend  of  Mankind, 

By  Genius,  Taste,  and  Love  inspired, 

Changed  this  once  desert  place 

Into  what  thou  now  beholdest." 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  monument  there  is  a  bust  of  Count 
Rumford,  and  the  inscription : 

"  To  him 
Who  rooted  out  the  greatest  of  Public  Evils, 

Idleness  and  Mendacity, 

Believed  and  instructed  the  Poor, 

And  founded  many  Institutions 

For  the  education  of  our  youth. 

Go,  Wanderer, 
And  strive  to  equal  him 
In  genius  and  activity, 

And  us 
In  gratitude." 


THOMAS  POSEY. 

THOMAS  POSET,  whose  life  furnishes,  us  with  another  instance 
of  the  undeviating  integrity  and  enduring  patriotism  of  the  men 
who  struggled  for  liberty  in  our  Revolution  and  gained  it,  was 
born  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac,  in  Virginia,  on  the  9th  of  July, 
1750.  He  was  in  humble  circumstances,  and  received  but  a 
scanty  education.  When  he  was  nineteen  years  of  age  he  re- 
moved to  the  western  part  of  Virginia,  near  the  frontiers,  where 
he  expected  to  engage  in  some  profitable  employment.  A  few 
years  after  his  removal  to  this  locality  the  country  became  in- 
volved in  a  general  war  with  the  Indians.  In  1774,  an  expedi- 
tion was  undertaken  against  them  by  the  British  colonial  govern- 
or, Lord  Dunmore,  and  General  Andrew  Lewis.  Mr.  Posey  re- 
ceived an  appointment  in  the  quarter-master's  department,  and 
marched  with  General  Lewis's  division  of  the  army.  The 'course 
of  the  army  lay  through  a  primitive  wilderness,  the  fastnesses  of 
which  were  yet  unbroken  by  the  foot  of  man.  Difficulties  of  the 
most  perplexing  character  were  constantly  occurring  to  obstruct 
the  horses,  baggage,  munitions,  and  provisions  which  were  under 
Posey's  charge,  but  the  coolness,  perseverance,  and  industry  which 
he  displayed  enabled  him  to  reach  the  place  of  rendezvous  in  safe- 
ty. Mr.  Hall  justly  remarks  that  there  was  more  merit  and  brill- 
iancy in  such  an  achievement  than  in  the  daring  and  the  triumph 
of  a  successful  battle,  for  the  performance  required  more  labor, 
more  patient  courage,  more  active  patriotism  than  is  usually  called 
forth  by  the  excitement  of  a  battle. 

On  the  10th  of  October  the  Indians  made  their  appearance  in 
great  force,  and  an  obstinate  and  bloody  engagement  immediately 
ensued  (Point  Pleasant).  They  were  led  by  the  famous  chief 
Corn-stalk,  a  chief  who,  unlike  most  of  his  contemporaries,  had 
no  fear  of  open  warfare,  and  attacked  Lewis's  position  with  the 
skill  of  an  experienced  general.  The  battle  lasted  the  entire  day, 
and  was  at  last  decided  in  favor  of  the  Virginians,  who  lost  sev- 
enty-five men  killed,  and  one  hundred  and  forty  wounded.  The  - 
Indian  loss  was  of  course  much  greater,  but,  in  accordance  with 


254  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

their  invariable  custom,  they  carried  off  their  dead,  and  left  it  im- 
possible to  discover  what  loss  they  had  sustained.  Shortly  after 
this  engagement,  Lord  Dunmore  succeeded  in  effecting  a  treaty 
of  peace  with  the  Indians. 

The  battle  of  Point  Pleasant  was  the  first  engagement  in  which 
Posey  took  part,  although  it  is  probable  that  at  various  times  he 
had  a  hand  in  the  frontier  skirmishes  which  were  incessantly 
waged  between  the^  settlers  and  the  savages.  He  was  a  minute 
observer  of  all  the  operations  of  battle,  and  his  imagination,  being 
eminently  of  a  military  order,  was  fired  with  hot  excitement.  It 
is  not  remarkable,  therefore,  that  when  the  war  of  Independence 
broke  out,  he  was  one  of  the  first  to  enroll  his  name  on  the  scroll 
of  patriotism.  At  an  early  day  he  was.  appointed  a  captain  in 
the  regular  service,  and  raised  a  company,  which  was  incorpora- 
ted with  the  seventh  Virginia  regiment,  and  afterward  put  upon 
the  Continental  establishment.  The  seventh  regiment  distin- 
guished itself  in  a  campaign  against  Lord  Dunmore,  and  was  sub- 
sequently ordered  to  join  the  army  under  the  immediate  command 
of  General  Washington.  In  the  spring  of  1777  it  reached  head- 
quarters at  Middlebrook,  New  Jersey — a  large  force  of  the  ene- 
my then  lying  at  New  Brunswick,  a  few  miles  distant,  under  the 
command  of  Lord  Cornwallis.  About  this  time  General  Wash- 
ington authorized  the  formation  of  a  picked  rifle  regiment,  to  be 
commanded  by  Colonel  Daniel  Morgan.  The  latter  distinguish- 
ed officer  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  placed  in  his  hand  to 
select  from  all  the  army  none  but  the  best  men.  Among  others, 
his  choice  fell  upon  Posey,  who  was  at  once  honored  with  a  cap- 
taincy. In  this  regiment,  surrounded  by  master-spirits  who  look- 
ed on  danger  as  their  comrade,  Posey  distinguished  himself  equal- 
ly with  his  gallant  companions.  It  would  be  unfair  to  say  more, 
for  every  man  in  that  regiment  was  a  patriot.  One  of  the  prin- 
cipal uses  of  a  rifle  corps  is  to  harass  an  enemy  rather  than  fight 
him ;  to  engage  the  picket-guards,  cut  off  the  supplies,  and  sur- 
prise detached  parties.  Detected  in  such  dangerous  tactics,  the 
rifleman  receives  no  quarter,  and,  indeed,  expects  none ;  but  the 
great  importance  of  the  service  renders  it  vitally  important  to 
have  none  but  the  most  reliable  men  in  the  corps.  Morgan's 
regiment  was  essentially  the  "  crack"  one  of  the  day,  and  by  the 
daring  rapidity  of  its  movements  performed  inestimable  service 
in  the  American  cause. 


THOMAS  FOSEY.  255 

• 

In  the  spring  of  1778,  Colonel  Morgan  being  on  furlough,  Lieu- 
tenant Colonel  Butler  having  joined  his  regiment,  and  Major  Mor- 
ris having  been  killed,  Captain  Posey  succeeded  to  the  command 
of  the  rifle  corps,  now  mucTi  reduced  by  the  many  actions  in  which 
it  had  taken  part,  and  the  hardships  and  privations  it  had  endured. 
He  continued  to  perform  active  duties  until  the  British  evacuated 
Philadelphia,  when  his  detachment  joined  the  army.  Posey  was 
promoted  to  the  rank  of  major,  and  in  1779  was  intrusted  with 
the  eleventh  Virginia  regiment  of  infantry,  from  which  he  was 
shortly  after  transferred  to  the  command  of  a  battalion,  compos- 
ing part  of  Febiger's  regiment,  under  the  orders  of  General  Wayne. 
Under  this  illustrious  commander  he  distinguished  himself  at  the 
assault  on  Stony  Point  (loth  July,  1779),  and  was  the  first  to 
enter  the  main  work  of  the  enemy.  Marshall,  in  his  history, 
says  that  "  Colonel  Fleury  was  the  first  to  enter  the  fort  and 
strike  the  British  standard.  Major  Posey  mounted  the  works  at 
the  same  instant,  and  was  the  first  to  give  the  watchword,  'T/ie 
fort  is  ours.' "  In  1780,  Posey  was  employed  in  the  recruiting 
service,  but  assisted  at  the  siege  of  Yorktown,  where  once  more 
he  witnessed  the  triumph  of  American  arms.  He  returned  to  his 
recruiting  station  and  organized  a  regiment,  of  which  he  obtained 
the  command,  having  already  been  promoted  to  the  rank  of  lieu- 
tenant colonel.  With  this  regiment  he  repaired  to  Georgetown 
(1781-2),  and  served  under  General  Wayne  until  the  evacuation 
of  Savannah  by  the  British.  When  this  event  took  place,  Wayne, 
with  his  troops,  was  ordered  to  join  General  Greene  in  South  Car- 
olina. Charleston  was  evacuated  a  few  months  afterward,  and 
Posey  was  ordered,  with  his  battalion  of  light  infantry,  to  follow 
the  enemy  as  they  marched  out.  This  was  his  last  employment 
in  the  Revolutionary  war,  as  it  was,  indeed,  the  last  occasion  for 
his  services.  During  the  whole  period  in  which  the  country  was 
struggling  for  its  liberties,  Posey  was  at  his  post,  ever  foremost  in 
the  time  of  danger ;  ever  prepared  for  the  privations,  disappoint- 
ments, and  misfortunes  of  that  time  which  truly  "  tried  men's 
souls."  It  is  nothing  for  a  man  to  be  a  patriot  now.  He  has  a 
country  and  a  nationality  to  fight  for ;  but  in  those  times,  a  man, 
if  he  failed,  was  a  rebel,  and  suffered  an  ignominious  death,  which, 
to  a  vast  number  of  recruits,  did  not  carry  pity  with  it. 

After  the  peace,  Colonel  Posey  (who  had  lost  his  first  wife)  was 
married  again  (1783)  to  Mrs.  Thornton,  a  young  widow  of  con- 


256  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

Q    • 

siderable  beauty  and  accomplishment,  and  immediately  afterward 
settled  in  Spottsylvania  county,  Virginia.  A  family  of  ten  chil- 
dren were  the  fruit  of  this  marriage.  In  1785  he  was  appointed 
captain  of  militia,  and  in  the  followiltg  year  county  lieutenant. 
He  fulfilled  the  arduous  duties  of  the  latter  appointment  until 
1793,  when  once  more  he  entered,  under  the  banner  of  General 
Wayne,  as  brigadier  general,  on  a  decisive  campaign  against  the 
Indians.  The  expedition  was  successful,  and  much  of  its  honor 
was  reflected  on  Posey. 

On  quitting  the  regular  service  he  settled  in  Kentucky,  where 
his  military  reputation  had  preceded  him,  and  paved  the  way  to 
new  honors.  He  was  immediately  elected  to  the  Senate  of  the 
State,  and  was  speaker  of  that  body  for  four  years,  by  virtue  of 
his  appointment  of  lieutenant  governor.  In  1809,  apprehensions 
of  war  with  England  induced  the  Congress  of  the  United  States 
to  provide  for  the  contingency  by  raising  an  army  of  one  hundred 
thousand  men.  The  quota  of  Kentucky  was  five  thousand  men, 
and  this  large  number  was  raised  with  the  greatest  possible  ease. 
The  command  was  intrusted  to  General  Posey,  with  the  rank  of 
major  general.  It  was  an  honor  that  any  man  might  be  proud 
of,  for  the  troops  were  selected  from  the  flower  of  the  state,  and 
•represented  some  of  the  best  and  most  patriotic  families.  The 
call,  however,  was  premature ;  and,  although  Posey  set  about  his 
duties  with  the  celerity  and  discipline  of  earlier  days,  his  exer- 
tions were,  for  the  moment,  of  no  avail.  The  army  was  dis- 
banded. Governor  Scott,  of  Kentucky,  complimented  Posey  on 
the  occasion.  "  While  I  felicitate  my  fellow-citizens  on  the  pros- 
pect of  our  affairs,"  says  that  gentleman, "  which  has  led  to  this 
event,  permit  me  particularly  to  assure  you  that  I  entertain  a 
high  sense  of  the  promptitude  and  zeal  with  which  you  undertook 
to  discharge  the  duties  of  commander-in-chief  of  this  corps.  You 
have  set  an  example  of  military  spirit,  at  the  expense  of  private 
convenience,  which  I  hope  ever  to  see  imitated  by  the  militia  of 
this  state,  when  the  interest  of  their  country  is  at  stake.  I  beg 
leave  to  renew  to  you  my  sentiments  of  regard,  and  am  sincerely 
your  friend  and  obedient  servant." 

The  purchase  of  Louisiana  from  the  French  opened  a  new  field 
of  enterprise  for  the  South,  and  among  those  who  determined  to 
settle  there  was  General  Posey.  Although  sixty  years  of  age, 
he  made  an  exploration  into  the  interior,  and  finally  purchased 


THOMAS  POSEY.  257 

land  in  Attakapas,  and  removed  thither  with  part  of  his  family. 
When,  in  1812,  hostilities  were  about  to  commence  with  Great 
Britain,  he  gave  a  fresh  illustration  of  his  patriotism  by  raising 
a  volunteer  company  at  Baton  Rouge,  of  which  he  condescended 
to  accept  the  captaincy.  In  the  same  year  General  Posey  was 
elected  senator  in  the  Congress  of  the  United  States.  He  repair- 
ed to  Washington,  and  served  there  until  March,  1813,  when  he 
was  appointed  governor  and  commander-in-chief  of  the  Territory 
of  Indiana.  This  territory  was  one  of  the  most  exposed  in  the 
country ;  infested  by  hostile  Indians,  and  threatened  by  the  Brit- 
ish. Its  management  required  military  firmness  and  experience, 
which  were  certainly  secured  in  the  appointment  of  General  Posey. 
He  fulfilled  the  duties  of  his  responsible  office  until  1816,  when 
the  territory  became  a  state. 

On  relinquishing  the  government  of  Indiana,  General  Posey 
was  appointed  Agent  for  Indian  Affairs,  the  important  duties  of 
which  office  he  continued  to  perform  to  the  day  of  his  death.  It 
was  the  last  position  in  which  he  was  permitted  to  serve  his  coun- 
try. On  the  19th  of  March,  1818,  General  Posey  departed  this 
life,  after  a  violent  attack  of  typhus  fever.  The  event  took  place 
at  Shawneetown,  Illinois,  and  was  occasioned  by  a  severe  cold, 
which  terminated  fatally  in  the- way  we  have  mentioned  at  the 
end  of  eight  days.  The  consolations  of  religion  had  prepared  his 
spirit  for  the  final  change,  and  when  the  moment  arrived  he  was 
ready.  Among  his  papers  were  found  (in  his  own  handwriting) 
a  brief  sketch  of  his  life,  a  letter  of  advice  to  his  children  and 
grandchildren,  and  a  letter  to  his  wife,  to  be  delivered  after  his 
death. 

"  In  the  prime  of  his  life,"  says  Mr.  Hall,  to  whom  we  are  in- 
debted for  some  of  the  facts  in  this  sketch,  "  General  Posey  was 
remarkable  for  his  personal  appearance ;  tall,  athletic,  and  finely 
formed,  with  singularly  handsome  features,  his  exterior  was  very 
prepossessing.  His  figure  was  dignified  and  graceful,  and  in  his 
manners  the  bearing  of  the  soldier  was  harmoniously  blended  with 
the  ease  of  the  refined  gentleman." 


ISRAEL  PUTNAM. 

THE  rich  and  glorious  military  history  of  America  is  studded 
with  bright  names  gathered  from  the  dark  masses  of  the  time — 
men  who  abandoned  their  humble  homes  for  the  tented  field,  and 
after  a  while  returned  to  their  homesteads  clothed  in  victory,  amid 
rejoicings  and  patriotic  ovations.  Many  of  these  names,  of  the 
richer  sort  too,  belong  of  right  to  the  biography  of  self-made  men. 
Accident  may  make  a  man  famous,  but  it  does  not  make  him 
patriotic.  This  he  owes  to  a  native  principle,  the  product  of  the 
soil  to  which  he  belongs,  and  his  own  large  and  generous  nature. 
To  be  more  than  thousands  of  his  neighbors,  to  be  illustrious  in 
the  annals  of  his  country,  he  must  call  into  play  all  the  self-de- 
nial, all  the  firmness,  all  the  clear-visioned  determination  of  the 
self-made.  Nothing  in  the  world  is  more  natural  than  patriotism, 
but  nothing  in  the  world  is  more  difficult  than  being  a  patriot. 

We  all  know  something  of  Israel  Putnam.  The  romantic  sto- 
ry of  his  life  is  one  of  the  earliest  that  attaches  us  to  our  dar- 
ing history,  and  impresses  it  vividly  on  our  mind.  He  was  born 
at  Salem,  in  Massachusetts,  on  the  7th  of  January,  1718,  his  fa- 


ISRAEL  PUTNAM.  259 

ther  being  a  farmer.  Education  in  those  days  was  not,  as  now, 
within  the  easy  grasp  of  the  aspiring.  People  in  moderate  cir- 
cumstances were  unable  to  command  more  than  the  scantiest 
smattering  of  knowledge.  Life  was  physical  rather  than  intel- 
lectual ;  men  looked  to  their  hands  more  than  their  heads.  Young 
Israel  learned  a  few  English  branches,  and  then  turned  his  atten- 
tion to  farming.  He  was  blessed  with  a  good  constitution,  and 
strengthened  it  by  a  hearty  participation  in  all  the  manly  sports 
of  the  time.  When  only  twelve  years  of  age  he  gave  an  indica- 
tion of  that  strength  and  courage  which  were  his  distinguishing 
characteristics  later  in  life.  It  happened  that  he  went  to  the  city 
of  Boston  on  a  visit,  and,  while  quietly  trudging  through  the 
streets  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  his  eyes  wide  open,  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  an  impudent  city  boy,  much  his  superior 
in  age  and  size.  This  youth  thought  it  would  be  capital  fun  to 
ridicule  the  rustic  appearance  and  gait  of  Israel,  and  for  this  pur- 
pose followed  him  through  the  streets.  Israel  submitted  to  his 
sneers  for  a  short  time^  and  then  turned  on  his  tormentor.  In  a 
very  short  time  he  gave  him  a  complete  drubbing. 

In  the  twenty-first  year  of  his  age  Israel  was  united  in  mar- 
riage to  a  Miss  Pope,  of  Salem,  and  immediately  afterward  re- 
moved to  Pomfret,  in  Connecticut,  where  he  purchased  a  consid- 
erable tract  of  land,  and  applied  himself  closely  to  cultivation. 
In  the  enjoyment  of  home  comfort,  and  in  the  pursuit  of  an  hon- 
est and  healthy  independence,  there  is  but  little  in  his  life  during 
this  period  which  need  be  recalled  in  a  biography.  One  little 
story,  however,  must  be  preserved.  In  those  days  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Pomfret  was  greatly  infested  by  wolves.  So  great  were 
their  depredations,  that,  in  a  single  night,  Putnam  lost  no  fewer 
than  twenty  sheep  and  goats,  besides  having  a  number  of  lambs 
wounded.  All  sorts  of  possible  means  were  employed  to  destroy 
these  voracious  robbers,  and  generally  with  success ;  but  there 
was  an  old  she-wolf  who  defied  all  the  ingenuity  of  the  farm- 
ers. She  paid  her  visits  every  night  to  the  sheepfold,  and,  after 
partaking  of  a  hearty  supper,  retired  to  her  den  in  a  neighbor- 
ing cavern.  On  one  occasion  she  had  been  caught  in  a  trap, 
and  had  left  a  part  of  her  foot  behind  in  order  to  effect  her  es- 
cape. The  mark  of  the  injured  foot  could  be  traced  after  her  noc- 
turnal visits,  especially  if  there  had  been  a  slight  fall  of  snow,  so 
that  every  one  knew  it  was  this  defiant  old  lady  that  caused  so 


260  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

much  mischief  every  night,  and  perhaps  initiated  younger  and 
more  timid  depredators.  Putnam  and  a  few  of  his  neighbors 
determined  to  pursue  the  robber.  Without  much  difficulty  they 
discovered  her  den.  Dogs  were  sent  in,  but  they  soon  came 
forth  wounded  and  howling ;  no  amount  of  persuasion  could  in- 
duce them  to  go  in  again.  Straw  and  brimstone  were  lighted 
at  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  but  the  stifling  fumes  had  no  effect  on 
the  hearty  constitution  of  the  old  she-wolf.  After  continuing 
their  efforts  until  late  at  night,  they  were  about  abandoning  their 
game,  when  Putnam  proposed  that  his  negro  man  should  descend 
into  the  cavern  and  shoot  the  wolf.  All  things  considered,  it  was 
not  at  all  remarkable  that  the  negro  man  declined  the  honor;  it 
is  more  remarkable  that  Putnam  should  have  thought  it  neces- 
sary to  reproach  him  with  cowardice.  Perfectly  resolved  not  to 
be  foiled,  Putnam  now  undertook  the  dangerous  task,  against  the 
wish  of  his  friends  and  neighbors,  who  remembered  how  the  dogs 
had  been  used,  and  could  scarcely  expect  a  better  fate  for  Israel. 
Stripping  off  his  coat  and  waistcoat,  and  piacing  a  rope  round  his 
body,  so  that  he  might  be  drawn  back  at  a  concerted  signal,  he 
entered  the  cavern  head  foremost,  holding  in  his  hand  a  torch  of 
lighted  birch  bark. 

The  aperture  of  the  den,  on  the  east  side  of  a  very  high  ledge 
of  rocks,  was  about  two  feet  square ;  thence  it  descended  oblique- 
ly fifteen  feet,  and,  running  horizontally  about  ten  more,  gradually 
ascended  sixteen  feet,  toward  its  termination.  The  sides  of  the 
cavern  were  of  smooth  solid  rocks,  apparently  divided  by  some 
violent  convulsion  of  nature.  Its  floor  and  top  were  also  of  stone, 
and  when  covered  with  ice  in  wiofer,  its  entrance  Avas  extremely 
slippery.  In  no  place  was  it  three  feet  wide,  or  high  enough  for 
a  man  to  stand  upright.  Through  this  long  and  perilous  cavern 
Putnam  groped  his  way,  creeping  cautiously  on  all  fours,  and 
waving  his  torch,  until  he  was  arrested  by  a  sullen  and  fierce 
growl.  Peering  into  the  darkness,  he  detected  the  glaring  eye- 
balls of  the  wolf,  flashing  defiance  on  him  from  the  extreme  end 
of  the  den.  Having  thus  explored  the  hunting-ground,  he  gave 
the  signal,  and  was  dragged  out  so  precipitately  by  his  friends 
(who,  hearing  the  growl,  were  quite  certain  that  something  very 
dreadful  had  happened)  that  his  clothes  were  torn  to  rags,  and  his 
body  sadly  lacerated.  Undeterred  by  this  little  accident,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  load  his  musket  with  nine  buck-shot,  and  then  for  the 


ISRAEL  PUTNAM.  261 

second  time  entered  the  cave.  He  approached  the  animal  nearer 
than  before,  in  spite  of  her  fierce  and  threatening  aspect;  still 
nearer  and  nearer  he  crept  up  to  her,  until  she  seemed  in  the 
very  act  of  springing ;  then,  with  a  steady  hand  and  true  eye,  he 
discharged  the  musket  full  at  her  head.  Stunned  by  the  reper- 
cussion, and  almost  suffocated  by  the  smoke,  he  was  again  drawn 
forth.  He  was  too  anxious  to  wait  long  for  the  result.  In  a  few 
moments  he  descended  into  the  cave  for  the  third  time,  seized  the 
wolf  by  the  mane,  and  dragged  her  out.  •  To  the  delight  and  ex- 
ultation of  every  one,  she  was  quite  dead. 

Putnam  was  thirty-seven  years  of  age  when  the  war  which 
preceded  the  American  Revolution  broke  out  between  France  and 
England.  As  a  farmer,  he  had  distinguished  himself  by  great  in- 
dustry and  prudence,  resulting  necessarily  in  easy  circumstances ; 
it  was  now  that  he  appeared  for  the  first  time  on  the  stage  of 
public  life.  In  i755  he  was  appointed  captain  of  a  company  in 
Lyman's  regiment  of  provincials,  which  were  among  the  first 
troops  raised  in  Connecticut  on  that  occasion.  With  Major 
Rogers  and  his  company  Putnam  traversed  the  wilderness,  to 
gain  information,  reconnoitre  the  enemy's  line,  capture  straggling 
parties,  cut  off  supplies,  and  generally  do  all  the  mischief  in  their 
power.  Their  immediate  object  was  to  obtain  a  correct  knowl- 
edge of  the  situation  and  condition  of  the  fortifications  at  Crown 
Point.  A  delicate  task  of  this  kind  required  more  than  mere 
bravery ;  it  demanded  prudence  and  coolness.  Putnam  soon 
perceived  that  it  was  impossible  to  approach  the  fortifications 
with  his  company  without  great  danger  of  detection  by  strag- 
glers from  the  garrison.  He  proposed,  therefore,  that  he  and 
Rogers  should  go  alone,  leaving  their  troops  in  some  safe  shelter 
until  their  return.  During  the  evening,  they  advanced  so  near 
the  fort  that  they  were  able  to  gain  all  the  information  their 
general  needed.  Once  they  were  nearly  detected  ;  a  French- 
man caught  hold  of  Rogers,  and,  after  vainly  trying  to  stab  him, 
shouted  out  to  the  guard  for  assistance.  Putnam  rushed  to  the 
rescue  of  his  companion,  and,  with  a  single  blow  from  the  butt- 
end  of  his  musket,  silenced  his  captor  forever.  They  made  their 
escape  before  the  guard  came  up.  It  was  probably  owing  to  the 
successful  issue  of  this  reconnoitring  party  that  Putnam,  assisted 
by  Lieutenant  Durkee,  was  intrusted  with  a  similar  delicate  op- 
eration. They  were  to  reconnoitre  the  enemy's  camp  at  the 


262  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

Ovens,  near  Ticonderoga.  The  French  were  lodged  round  their 
fires,  instead  of  the  fires  being  placed  round"  the  men,  as  in  the 
English  camp;  their  sentinels  were,  consequently,  secreted  in  tho 
surrounding  darkness.  Ignorant  of  this  disposition,  Putnam  and 
the  lieutenant  crept  cautiously  on  their  hands  and  knees  toward 
the  camp,  when,  to  their  great  surprise,  they  found  themselves 
entirely  encircled  by  the  enemy.  They  were  quickly  observed 
and  fired  upon,  Lieutenant  Durkee  receiving  a  slight  wound.  In 
their  hurry  to  escape,  Putnam  fell  into  a  clay-pit,  and  Durkee 
followed.  Imagining  that  the  latter  was  an  enemy,  Putnam  had 
raised  his  arm  to  stab  him,  when  he  recognized  Durkee's  voice. 
Springing  from  the  pit  with  fresh  activity,  they  made  good  their 
retreat,  followed  by  a  perfect  storm  of  bullets.  When  Putnam 
loosened  his  canteen  to  give  a  little  rum  to  his  wounded  Compan- 
ion, he  was  astonished  to  find  that  it  had  been  perforated  with 
bullets,  and  all  the  treasured  liquor  gone.  Hisublanket,  too,  was 
pierced  with  fourteen  holes,  so  that  he  had  had  even  a  narrower 
escape  than  with  the  wolf.  In  this  and  similar  hazardous  under- 
takings he  continued  to  be  employed,  always  displaying  undaunt- 
ed bravery,  and  great  judgment  and  presence  of  mind.  The  rep- 
utation which  he  gained  by  these  exploits  won  for  him  the  appre- 
ciation of  the  Provincial  Legislature  of  Connecticut,  who,  as  a  rec- 
ognition of  his  merits,  promoted  him  to  the  rank  of  major  in  1757. 
At  the  siege  of  Fort  "William  Henry,  Putnam  distinguished 
himself  by  obtaining  much  valuable  information  concerning  the 
movements  of  the  enemy,  which,  had  it  been  acted  on  with  prompt- 
ness and  courage,  would  have  averted  the  sad  fate  of  that  fort,  and 
the  subsequent  massacre  by  the  Indians,  which  has  made  it  odious. 
Putnam  reached  the  scene  of  carnage  just  as  the  rear  guard  of  the 
French  were  embarking  on  the  lake.  The  bodies  of  brtitally- 
murdered  human  beings  lay  around  him  in  every  direction ;  hund- 
reds of  women  and  of  children  were  heaped  on  the  smouldering 
ruins  of  the  barracks  and  fort.  We  can  imagine  the  emotions  of 
Putnam  as  he  gazed  on  the  scene,  knowing,  as  he  did,  that  if  the 
general  had  but  possessed  an  atom  of  his  courage,  all  might  have 
been  averted.  In  view  of  this,  posterity  has  forgiven  him  a  dis- 
obedience to  orders,  which  certainly  occurred  soon  after.  Putnam, 
with  his  Rangers,  were  stationed  on  a  little  island  in  Lake  George, 
and  intelligence  was  broughf  that  a  fatigue  party,  under  Captain 
Little,  was  in  danger  of  utter  destruction  by  the  French  and  In- 


ISRAEL  PUTNAM.  263 

dians.  Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  they  dashed  into  the  wa- 
ter and  rushed  to  the  rescue.  As  they  passed  the  fort,  the  gen- 
eral peremptorily  ordered  them  back  to  quarters.  Putnam  was 
seized  with  sudden  deafness,  and  did  not  hear  the  order  until  after 
Captain  Little's  party  had  been  rescued  from  the  danger  which 
threatened  it.  Disobedience  to  orders  in  the  army  is  an  awful 
crime,  but,  in  consideration  of  the  service  rendered,  no  court-mar- 
tial was  held  on  the  major. 

There  are  so  many  kinds  of  bravery,  that  it  not  unfrequently 
happens  that  a  perfectly  courageous  man  may  display  weakness 
on  some  one  point.  He  may  be  afraid  of  having  a  tooth  pulled, 
or  of  crossing  a  stream  in  the  dark,  or  of  going  up  to  the  top  of 
a  high  ladder.  One  of  the  most  natural  fears,  even  among  the 
bravest  of  the  brave,  is  the  fear  of  fire.  In  17t57,  the  barracks 
of  Fort  Edward  took  fire,  and  would  have  extended  to  the  mag- 
azine, which  was  only  twelve  feet  distant,  and  contained  300  bar- 
rels of  gunpowder,  had  it  not  been  for  Putnam's  individual  per- 
severance, bravery,  and  coolness.  He  took  his  post  on  the  roof 
of  the  barracks,  and  threw  water  on  the  flames  until  roasted 
from  his  position.  Colonel  Haviland,  who  had  command  of  the 
fort,  urged  him  to  desist  from  his  perilous  efforts,  but  he  begged 
permission  to  remain  and  continue  his  labors.  He  was  now 
standing  between  the  magazine  and  the  flames,  the  external 
planks  of  the  former  frequently  taking  fire.  A  moment's  delay 
in  extinguishing  the  flame,  wherever  it  appeared,  would  have 
resulted  in  instant  destruction.  Every  one  knew  this  ;  but  such 
was  the  force  of  good  example,  that  not  a  man  would  desert 
his  post  at  the  bucket-line ;  even  the  colonel  expressed  a  desire 
that  they  might  all  be  blown  up  together.  At  length  the  fire 
was  happily  extinguished.  Putnam  had  labored  at  it  for  nearly 
two  hours ;  his  face,  his  breast,  his  arms  were  terribly  blistered, 
and  when  he  drew  off  the  mittens  on  his  hands  the  flesh  came 
away  too,  and  left  all  the  nerves  exposed.  It  was  many  weeks 
before  he  was  able  to  go  out,  after  this  heroic  display  of  stoical 
courage. 

During  the  reverses  of  Abercrombie  at  Ticonderoga,  Putnam 
performed  good  service,  but  was,  of  course,  unable  to  divert  the 
unfortunate  tendency  of  events.  The  weak  point  of  the  campaign 
was  that  green  English  officers,  who  knew  nothing  whatever  of 
the  Indian  element  in  warfare,  and  were  otherwise  ignorant  of 


264  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

the  local  precautions  necessary  to  insure  safety  to  an  army — that 
these  fine-feathered  gentlemen  were  placed  in  command,  not  only 
of  the  European  troops,  which  they  might  understand,  but  also 
of  the  American  auxiliaries,  which  they  could  not.  Had  more 
reliance  been  placed  on  shrewd,  cool  officers  like  Putnam,  the  dis- 
asters would  certainly  have  been  fewer.  We  have  no  intention 
of  following  the  events  of  this  period,  and  shall  therefore  merely 
select  those  in  which  our  hero  was  mainly  interested. 

One  day,  while  Putnam,  with  five  men,  was  lying  in' a  boat  near 
the  Rapids  by  Fort  Miller,  he  received  a  sudden  warning  that 
the  Indians  were  upon  him.  Before  he  had  time  to  escape,  the 
savages  fired  upon  the  little  party,  and  killed  one  of  its  number. 
There  seemed  scarcely  a  hope  of  retreat.  On  either  side  were  the 
Indians,  in  front  the  Rapids,  and  thus  what  seemed  to  be  certain 
death  in  every  direction.  Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  Put- 
nam preferred  risking  the  Rapids.  Seizing  the  helm,  he  steered 
straight  into  the  vortex  of  the  foaming  waters.  The  boat  was 
whirled  round  like  a  chip  on  the  surface  of  a  whirlpool,  but  his 
steady  hand  kept  it  in  the  channel,  and  carried  it  past  all  impedi- 
ments, until,  like  an  arrow,  it  darted  into  the  tranquil  waters  be- 
low. It  is  said  that  the  Indians  were  so  overcome  by  this  exhibi- 
tion of  cool  skill  that  they  looked  on  it  as  something  supernatural, 
and  conceived  it  would  be  an  affront  to  the  Great  Spirit  to  kill 
this  favored  mortal  with  powder  and  ball. 

Up  to  this  time  we  have  had  nothing  but  good  luck  to  record 
of  Major  Putnam.  On  one  of  his  reconnoitring  expeditions,  how- 
ever, he  was  ambuscaded,  and,  after  a  fierce  struggle,  captured. 
While  the  two  parties  were  still  hotly  contesting  the  ground,  he 
was  tied  to  a  tree,  and  exposed  to  the  cross-fire  of  friends  and  foes. 
At  length  he  was  untied  by  his  captors,  stripped  of  his  clothing, 
laden  with  the  packs  of  the  wounded,  tightly  pinioned,  and  in 
this  sad  plight  forced  to  march  many  miles,  in  the  midst  of  tri- 
umphant enemies,  to  Ticonderoga,  where  he  was  examined  by  the 
French  commander-in-chief,  the  Marquis  of  Montcalm.  He  was 
afterward  removed  to  Montreal,  and  treated  with  great  humanity 
and  indulgence.  Here,  through  the  intercession  of  Colonel  Schuy- 
ler,  he  soon  obtained  his  release,  in  an  exchange  of  prisoners  which 
took  place  between  the  two  armies. 

In  1760  the  English  triumphs  in  Canada  were  almost  perfect- 
ed. Montreal  was  the  only  important  post  remaining  in  the 


ISRAEL  PUTNAM.  26f> 

hands  of  the  French.  To  reduce  this,  General  Murray  was  or- 
dered to  ascend  the  River  St.  Lawrence  ;  Colonel  Haviland,  with 
the  second  corps,  was  directed  to  penetrate  by  the  Isle  au  Noix ; 
while  10,000  men  under  Amherst  were  to  pass  up  the  Mohawk, 
traverse  Lake  Ontario,  and,  by  descending  the  St.  Lawrence,  unite 
with  the  other  two  divisions.  To  this  latter  corps  was  Putnam 
attached.  In  falling  down  the  river,  they  came  upon  an  unex- 
pected obstruction  in  the  shape  of  two  armed  vessels,  and  farther 
progress  was  for  the  moment  impossible.  Putnam  was  the  first 
to  volunteer  to  clear  the  way.  With  a  thousand  men  and  fifty 
boats  he  undertook  to  carry  the  vessels  by  boarding.  At  the 
appointed  moment  the  flotilla  started  on  its  way.  The  victory, 
however,  was  bloodless.  Dismayed  by  the  force  brought  against 
them,  the  crews  of  the  armed  vessels  compelled  their  command- 
ers to  haul  down  the  colors.  The  next  point  of  attack  was  the 
fort  of  Oswegatchie,  situated  on  an  island,  and  defended  by  a  high 
abatis  of  black  ash,  projecting  every  where  over  the  water.  A 
mode  of  attack  was  devised  by  Putnam,  and  immediately  put  in 
operation.  Each  boat  was  surrounded  with  fascines,  musket- 
proof,  and  a  board,  twenty  feet  long,  fixed  in  the  manner  of  a 
half  draw-bridge,  which  was  to  be  dropped  on  the  pointed  bush. 
The  signal  was  given  for  the  attack,  but  the  sight  of  the  strange 
machinery  disconcerted  the  besieged,  and  they,  like  their  marine 
compatriots,  surrendered  without  a  blow. 

In  the  rupture  between  Spain  and  Great  Britain  in  1762,  a 
formidable  expedition  against  Havana  was  committed  to  the 
charge  of  Lord  Albemarle.  One  of  the  contingents  was  a  Con- 
necticut regiment,  one  thousand  strong,  under  the  command  of 
Putnam.  The  transports  arrived  in  safety  off  the  Queen  of  the 
Antilles,  but  a  storm  arose,  and  Putnam  and  five  hundred  of  his 
party  were  wrecked  upon  a  dangerous  reef  of  rocks.  By  much 
industry  and  fatigue  they  reached  the  main  land,  where  they  made 
a  fortified  camp,  and  remained  unmolested.  Their  presence  was 
of  infinite  service  in  the  subsequent  reduction  of  Havana. 

The  general  peace  in  Europe  of  1763  put  an  end  to  these  large 
struggles,  but  the  Indians  in  America  were  still  hostile.  Put- 
nam's great  experience  made  him  a  very  desirable  officer  against 
this  savage  foe,  and,  with  the  rank  of  colonel,  he  proceeded  to  the 
West,  under  General  Bradstreet's  command,  and  remained  until 
the  Indians  had  been  brought  to  a  state  of  subjection.  Putnam's 

M 


266  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

military  career  seemed  now  at  an  end.  He  had  served  his  coun- 
try gallantly  and  faitlifully  for  ten  years,  and,  haying  his  honors 
meekly  on  the  national  altar,  returned  to  his  homestead,  and  once 
more  peacefully  followed  the  plow. 

The  obnoxious  Stamp  Act  was  warmly  opposed  by  Putnam. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  active  in  preventing  the  circulation  of 
the  objectionable  paper.  In  1766  the  act  was  ungraciously  re- 
pealed, and  Putnam  once  more  resumed  his  agricultural  labors ; 
but  the  agitation  which  had  been  provoked  by  the  folly  of  the  En- 
glish government  was  not  destined  to  die  ingloriously.  It  was 
perfectly  understood  that,  although  the  government  had  abandon- 
ed its  position  from  outside  pressure,  it  did  not  surrender  what  it 
conceived  to  be  a  right.  These  matters  were  warmly  discussed 
in  the  various  states,  and  still  more  hotly  in  the  principal  cities. 
Putnam  made  frequent  visits  to  Boston,  and  was  known  as  one 
in  whom  perfect  confidence  might  be  placed  when  the  hour  of  trial 
should  arrive.  On  the  19th  of  April,  1775,  the  news  of  the  bat- 
tle of  Lexington  was  carried  to  Putnam  as  he  was  laboring  in  the 
field.  He  left  his  plow  standing  in  the  furrow,  threw  himself 
across  one  of  the  team,  and,  without  a  moment's  delay,  hurried 
to  the  scene  of  action,  without  even  waiting  to  change  his  clothes. 
Two  days  later  he  attended  a  council  of  war  at  Cambridge,  and 
throughout  the  struggle  which  now  commenced,  took  an  active 
command.  At  Bunker  Hill  the  coolness  and  intrepidity  of  his 
action  contributed  in  a  large  measure  to  the  glory  of  the  Ameri- 
can cause.  It  is  supposed,  and  with  every  show  of  reason,  that 
he  had  entire  command  of  the  forces  on  this  occasion. 

The  incidents  of  our  glorious  struggle  have  been  so  often  re- 
hearsed, and  belong  so  essentially  to  history,  that  in  a  biography  of 
this  brief  kind  it  would  scarcely  be  desirable  to  repeat  them.  The 
great  hero  was  Washington,  and  whom  he  honored  we  honor. 
From  the  first  Putnam  secured  the  respect  and  confidence  of  this 
great  man,  and  was  frequently  complimented  in  General  Orders. 
Not  only  did  he  bring  invincible  courage  and  patriotism  to  the 
cause  of  his  country,  but,  what  was  almost  of  equal  importance  in 
those  dark  days,  he  possessed  rare  tact — the  faculty  of  making  insuf- 
ficient means  abundantly  satisfactory.  An  illustration  will  suffice. 
Captain  Macpherson,  a  Scotch  officer  of  the  seventeenth  British 
regiment,  had  received,  in  the  battle  of  Princeton,  a  severe  wound, 
which  every  one  thought  would  prove  fatal.  Putnam  visited  the 


ISRAEL  PUTNAM.  267 

wounded  prisoner,  procured  surgical  assistance,  administered  to 
lu's  comforts,  and  solaced  him  in  the  apparent  hour  of  death.  Con- 
trary to  every  prognostication,  the  captain  recovered ;  but,  prior 
to  this,  in  the  darkest  hour  of  his  suffering,  he  made  a  request  to 
Putnam  that  a  friend  in  the  British  army  might  be  permitted  to 
come  and  aid  him  in  the  preparation  of  his  will.  The  general  was 
involved  in  great  perplexity.  On  the  one  hand,  he  was  charita- 
bly anxious  to  gratify  the  dying  prisoner ;  on  the  other,  he  was 
very  unwilling  that  an  officer  from  the  enemy's  camp  should  spy 
out  his  own  weakness.  His  presence  of  mind  and  natural  shrewd- 
ness helped  him  out  of  the  difficulty  in  an  extremely  amusing  way. 
A  flag  of  truce  was  dispatched,  with  orders  not  to  return  with  the 
captain's  friend  until  after  dark.  •"  By  the  time  of  his  arrival 
lights  were  displayed  in  all  the  apartments  of  the  College  Hall, 
and  in  all  the  vacant  houses  in  the  town ;  and  the  army,  which 
then  consisted  of  fifty  effective  men,  were  marched  about  with  re- 
markable celerity,  sometimes  in  close  column,  and  sometimes  in 
detachments,  with  unusual  pomp  and  circumstance,  around  the 
quarters  of  the  captain.  It  was  subsequently  ascertained,  as  we 
are  assured  by  Colonel  Humphreys,  that  the  force  of  Putnam  was 
computed  by  the  framer  of  the  will,  on  his  return  to  the  British 
camp,  to  consist,  on  the  lowest  estimate,  of  five  thousand  men." 
It  is  in  emergencies  of  this  kind  that  the  native  genius  of  a  man 
displays  itself.  Decision  and  firmness  of  character  were  ever 
manifest  in  all  that  Putnam  undertook  to  perform.  We  will  give 
an  instance  where  these  qualities  were  displayed  in  a  tragic  man- 
ner. Edmund  Palmer,  a  lieutenant  in  a  Tory  regiment,  had  been 
discovered  in  the  American  camp.  To  avert  the  fate  of  a  spy, 
the  commander  of  the  British  forces  sent  a  flag  of  truce  to  Put- 
nam, claiming  the  prisoner  as  a  British  officer,  and  intimating 
that  his  execution  would  be  attended  with  serious  consequences. 
Putnam  returned  the  flag  with  the  following  characteristic  and 
perfectly  dramatic  note : 

"Head-quarters,  7th  August,  1777. 

"  Edmund  Palmer,  an  officer  in  the  enemy's  service,  was  taken 
as  a  spy  lurking  within  our  lines ;  he  has  been  tried  as  a  spy, 
condemned  as  a  spy,  and  shall  be  executed  as  a  spy,  and  the  flag 
is  ordered  to  depart  immediately. 

"  ISRAEL  PUTNAM. 

"  P.S. — He  has  been  accordingly  executed." 


268  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

The  only  reverse  which  Putnam  ever  met  with,  in  his  singu- 
larly eventful  life,  was  at  Fort  Montgomery,  which,  owing  to  in- 
sufficient support,  he  was  compelled  to  abandon  to  the  enemy. 
The  subsequent  movements  were  not  in  accordance  with  the  or- 
ders of  the  commander-in-chief,  and  Washington  consequently 
expressed  some  dissatisfaction  with  Putnam.  A  Congressional 
inquiry  was  made  into  the  matter,  and,  in  deference  to  public 
clamor,  he  was,  for  a  time,  superseded  in  his  command.  This, 
however,  did  not  dampen  his  ardor.  He  returned  to  Connecti- 
cut, raised  new  levies,  and  displayed  all  his  old  activity.  About 
this  time  he  was  the  hero  of  a  well-known  exploit.  One  day, 
while  visiting  his  outposts  at  West  Greenwich,  he  was  surprised 
by  Governor  Tryon  with  a  corps  of  fifteen  hundred  men.  Put- 
nam had  only  a  hundred  and  fifty  men  and  two  pieces  of  artillery 
to  defend  himself  against  this  overpowering  force.  With  these, 
he  took  his  station  on  the  brow  of  a  steep  declivity.  As  the 
British  advanced,  they  were  received  with  a  sharp  fire  from  th'e 
artillery ;  but,  perceiving  the  dragoons  about  to  charge,  Putnam 
ordered  his  men  to  retire  to  a  swamp  inaccessible  to  cavalry,  while 
he  himself  forced  his  horse  directly  down  the  precipice.  His  pur- 
suers, who  were  close  upon  him,  were  horror-stricken  at  the  au- 
dacity of  the  thing,  and  paused  breathlessly  until  he  was  out  of 
danger.  The  declivity,  from  this  circumstance,  has  since  borne 
the  name  of  Putnam's  Hill. 

During  the  campaign  of  1779,  which  terminated  General  Put- 
nam's military  career,  he  commanded  the  Maryland  line.  Being 
stationed  two  miles  below  West  Point,  at  Buttermilk  Falls,  he 
directed  the  principal  part  of  his  attention  to  strengthening  the 
works  of  that  important  fortress.  In  December,  when  the  Amer- 
ican army  went  into  winter-quarters  at  Morristown,  New  Jersey, 
he  obtained  leave  of  absence  to  visit  his  family  for  a  few  weeks. 
As  he  was  journeying  toward  Hartford,  on  his  way  back  to 
Morristown,  his  progress  was  arrested  by  an  attack  of  paralysis, 
by  which  the  use  of  his  limbs  on  one  side  was  lost.  He  was  un- 
willing to  admit  the  real  character  of  the  disease,  and  endeavored, 
by  vigorous  exercise,  to  throw  off  the  torpidity.  The  effort  was 
unavailing,  and  for  the  remainder  of  his  eventful  life  he  was  an 
invalid.  On  the  17th  of  May,  1790,  he  was  suddenly  attacked 
by  an  inflammatory  disease,  and  two  days  later  died.  His  re- 
mains were  borne  to  the  grave  with  the  usual  ceremonies  due  to 


ISRAEL  PUTNAM.  269 

a  distinguished  military  commander,  and  a  feeling  eulogy  was 
pronounced  on  the  occasion.  He  was  consoled  in  the  last  few 
years  of  his  life  with  the  knowledge  that  the  cause  which  he  had 
espoused  with  such  signal  ardor  and  intrepidity  had  triumphed, 
and  that  he  had  been  one  of  the  humble  instruments  in  the  hands 
of  a  divine  Providence  to  raise  a  down-trodden  colony  to  the 
dignity  and  glory  of  a  great  nation. 


JOHN   PRIDE AUX. 

THE  story  of  John  Prideaux,  a  quaint  fragment  of  early  bi- 
ography, affords  at  once  an  instructive  lesson,  and  an  amusing 
insight  into  an  early  period  of  English  history.  Prideaux  was 
born  on  the  17th  of  December,  1578,  at  Stowford,  near  Plym- 
outh, England.  His  father  was  in  moderate  circumstances,  but, 
owing  to  the  requirements  of  a  large  family,  was  unable  to  sup- 
ply his  sons  with  liberal  educations.  John,  who  was  the  fourth, 
was  merely  taught  to  read  and  write.  In  spite  of  this  drawback, 
he  was  soon  destined  to  enter  on  public  life.  The  parish  clerk 
of  Ugborough,  a  village  about  five  miles  from  Stowford,  had  die/1, 
and  his  office  was  still  vacant.  John  Prideaux  was  gifted  with  a 
fine  voice,  and,  in  spite  of  his  youth,  determined  on  applying  for 
the  situation.  There  was  another  competitor  in  the  field — an 
experienced  man,  who  had  canvassed  the  village  in  a  thoroughly 
business-like  way.  The  parishioners  determined  on  giving  the 
rivals  a  fair  trial,  anfl  arranged  that  one  of  the  competitors  should 
give  out  the  psalms  in  the  morning,  and  the  other  in  the  after- 
noon, and  that  the  place  should  be  given  to  the  candidate  who 
was  most  approved  by  the  congregation.  The  result  was  what 
might  have  been  expected — experience  carried  the  day ;  the  parish- 
ioners decided  in  favor  of  Prideaux' s  rival.  It  was  fortunate  that 
it  so  happened.  In  later  days  he  used  to  say,  "  If  I  could  have 
been  parish  clerk  of  Ugborough,  I  never  should  have  been  Bishop 
of  Worcester."  But  the  disappointment  was  a  trying  one,  and 
bruised  his  young  heart.  There  was  a  kind  old  lady  in  the  vil- 
lage who  observed  the  earnestness  of  his  sorrow,  and  sympathized 
with  it.  She  comforted  the  poor  young  fellow,  and  told  him  that 
"God  might  design  him  for  greater  things,  and  therefore  he  ought 
nqt  to  lament  having  failed  in  his  recent  attempt."  She  did  more 
than  this  ;  she  placed  him  at  the  grammar-school,  and  maintained 
him  there  until  he  had  acquired  some  knowledge  of  Latin  and 
the  higher  branches  of  a  solid  education.  A  very  kind  and  sens- 
ible gentlewoman  was  Mistress  Fowell. 

Prideaux's  thirst  for  knowledge  was  now  thoroughly  aroused ; 


JOHN  PRIDEAUX.  271 

the  country  school  could  not  supply  his  wants,  and  he  determined 
to  perfect  his  education  at  an  English  University.  Accordingly, 
quitting  parents,  relatives,  friends,  and  the  scenes  of  his  childhood, 
he  set  out  for  Oxford,  performing  the  journey  on  foot,  and  trust- 
ing entirely  to  his  good  fortune  for  the  result.  The  journey  was 
a  long  and  dismal  one,  and  not  without  danger.  He  suffered 
many  privations,  but,  in  spite  of  these,  reached  Oxford  in  safety. 
At  this  renowned  seat  of  learning  he  repaired  to  Exeter  College, 
then  largely  patronized  by  gentlemen  from  the  county  of  Devon. 
It  is  probable  that  he  had  some  acquaintances  there,  or,  at  all 
events,  some  family  friends,  who  would  lend  him  a  helping  hand. 
He  was  an  ingenuous  lad,  with  engaging  manners,  and  an  open, 
frank  way  of  looking  people  in  the  face ;  and  then  he  was  an  en- 
thusiast not  easily  repulsed.  To  some  of  these  causes  must  be 
attributed  his  success ;  he  obtained  admission  to  the  college.  His 
situation  at  first  was  but  an  humble  one,  he  being  employed  as  an 
assistant  in  the  kitchen  and  in  other  menial  offices.  There  are 
many  fine  minds  that  would  sink  beneath  the  degrading  drudgery 
of  such  a  situation,  but  Prideaux  conceived  it  to  be  no  disgrace 
to  begin  on  the  lowest  step  of  the  ladder.  He  never  complained, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  was  so  cheerful  and  happy  that  he  obtained 
the  good-will  of  every  one.  The  consequence  was,  that  in  1596 
he  was  admitted  a  poor-scholar  of  Exeter  College,  and  was  placed 
under  the  tuition  of  Mr.  William  Helme,  an  able  scholar,  and 
Bachelor  of  Divinity.  He  now  applied  himself  to  study  with  a 
vigor  which  would  have  been  fatal  to  a  man  with  a  less  robust 
constitution.  Night  and  day  he  pored  over  his  books,  and,  being 
gifted  with  a  remarkably  tenacious  memory,  was  soon  able  to 
master  their  contents.  In  less  than  three  years  he  obtained  his 
degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts  (1599) ;  three  years  later,  he  was 
elected  a  probationer  fellow  of  his  college  (1602).  In  the  fol- 
lowing year  he  obtained  his  master's  degree,  and  soon  after  en- 
tered into  holy  orders.  To  the  study  of  divinity  he  directed  all 
his  energies,  and  he  became  recognized  as  the  best  theologian  in 
the  college.  His  bachelor's  degree  in  divinity  was  taken  in  1611, 
his  master's  degree  in  the  following  year.  This  was,  indeed, 
rapid  promotion  for  a  poor  boy  who  had  worked  his  way  to  learn- 
ing through  the  pots  and  kettles  of  the  kitchen ;  but  a  greater 
honor  was  in  store  for  him;  in  1612  he  was  elected  Rector  of 
Exeter  College.  Quaint  old  Anthony  a  Wood  says,  that  "  in  the 


272  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

rectorship  of  his  college  he  carried  himself  so  winning  and  pleas- 
ing, by  his  gentle  government  and  fatherly  instruction,  that  it 
flourished  more  than  any  house  in  the  University  with  scholars, 
as  well  of  great  as  of  mean  birth ;  so  also  with  many  foreigners 
that  came  purposely  to  sit  at  his  feet  to  gain  instruction."  In 
1615  Prideaux  succeeded  to  the  professorship  of  divinity  in  the 
University,  to  which  office  are  annexed  a  canonrf  of  Christ  Church, 
and  the  rectory  of  Ewelme  in  Oxfordshire.  In  the  professional 
chair  he  was  a  strenuous  assailant  of  the  doctrines  of  Arminius 
and  Socinus,  which  were  at  that  time  gaining  ground.  His  lec- 
tures were  remarkable  for  vigor  and  perspicuity.  Prince,  in  his 
account  of  the  worthies  of  Devon,  characterizes  the  style  of  Pri- 
deaux as  being  "  manly  for  the  strength,  maidenly  for  the  modesty, 
and  elegant  for  the  phrase  thereof."  It  was  also  said  of  him  that 
"  the  heroic  spirit  of  Jewel,  Rain  olds,  and  Hooper,  as  though  they 
were  united  in  him,  seemed  once  more  to  triumph,  and  to  threaten 
the  hierarchy  of  Babylon  with  a  fatal  blow." 

Prideaux  held  the  professorship  of  Divinity  for  twenty-seven 
years,  during  which  period  he  filled  the  dignified  office  of  vice- 
chancellor  five  times.  He  was  also  domestic  chaplain  to  Prince 
Henry,  son  of  James  I.,  and  subsequently  to  King  James  himself, 
and  Charles  the  First.  These  honors  and  preferments  did  not 
make  him  unmindful  of  his  origin.  He  was  uniformly  compas- 
sionate to  the  poor,  and  to  his  parents  affectionate  and  beneficent. 
The  hatter  he  delighted  to  surprise  with  unexpected  visits,  and  by 
generous  bounty  to  gladden  their  hearts,  and  cheer  their  path  of 
life.  In  one  of  his  visits  to  Devonshire  for  this  purpose,  as  he 
passed  through  the  parish  of  Ugborough,  the  church  bell  was  toll- 
ing. On  being  told  that  it  was  for  the  funeral  of  an  old  woman 
who  had  been  his  godmother,  he  suspended  his  journey,  accompa- 
nied the  body  to  the  grave,  and  delivered  a  suitable  discourse 
upon  the  occasion.  There  is  not  much  in  an  incident  of  this 
kind ;  but  it  shows  a  simple  nature,  and  an  estimable  trait  in  an 
ecclesiastic,  who  might,  under  such  circumstances,  consult  dignity 
rather  than  natural  impulse.  Though  unfeignedly  pious,  Prideaux 
was  of  a  cheerful  disposition,  and  loved  to  exhibit  a  chaste  and 
elegant  wit,  always  gay,  but  never  bitter.  He  was  fond  of  manly 
sports,  and  was  an  excellent  archer. 

A  man  of  so  much  distinction  could  not  fail  of  preferment.  On 
the  2d  of  November,  1G41,  he  was  nominated  Bishop  of  Worccs- 


JOHN  PRIDEAUX.  273 

ter,  and  in  the  following  December  was  consecrated.  The  office 
was  a  dignified  one,  but  it  was  beset  with  perils.  A  sense  of 
duty  rather  than  a  love  of  power  induced  him  to  accept  it.  The 
tyranny  of  Laud,  and  the  slavish  doctrines  taught  by  many  of  the 
prelates,  had  ulcerated  the  minds  of  the  people,  and  made  them 
loathe  the  mitre  and  all  who  wore  it.  Only  eight  days  after 
the  consecration  of  Prideaux,  nearly  one  half  of  the  English  bish- 
ops were  guilty  of  an  act  which,  under  all  the  circumstances, 
would  seem  to  have  been  prompted  by  insanity,  or  by  passion  bor- 
dering on  insanity.  Misled  by  the  intriguing  Archbishop  of  York, 
eleven  prelates  signed  with  him  that  extraordinary  protest,  by 
which  they  took  upon  themselves  to  nullify  all  proceedings  that 
might  take  place  in  Parliament  during  their  absence.  Public  in- 
dignation was  intense,  and  too  bitter  to  be  discriminate.  Al- 
though Prideaux' s  name  did  not  appear  in  the  obnoxious  docu- 
ment, he  was  doomed  to  share  the  odium  it  occasioned. 

In  those  days  there  were  many  wise  men  who  believed  in  the 
divine  right  of  kings  (as  if  there  was  any  thing  divine  in  brutal 
stupidity,  tyranny,  and  wrong),  and  Prideaux  was  unhappily  of 
the  number.  When  the  people  took  up  arms  against  the  sover- 
eign, Prideaux  endeavored  to  intrench  himself  behind  preroga- 
tive, and  to  intimidate  his  foes  by  threats  of  excommunication. 
The  torrent  was  too  strong  for  such  puny  efforts.  He  was  plun- 
dered, expelled,  laid  under  sequestration,  and  at  last  reduced  to 
such  straits  that  he  was  fain  to  sell  his  valuable  library  and  some 
fragments  of  property  to  provide  for  the  wants  of  his  family. 
"  Having  first,  by  indefatigable  studies,"  says  old  Anthony,  "  di- 
gested his  library  into  his  mind,  he  was  after  forced  again  to  de- 
vour all  his  books  with  his  teeth,  turning  them,  by  a  miraculous 
faith  and  patience,  into  bread  for  himself  and  his  children."  Pri- 
deaux explains  the  process  with  wonderful  equanimity  and  hu- 
mor. Being  questioned  about  his  health,  he  replied,  "  Never  bet- 
ter in  my  life,  only  I  have  too  great  a  stomach,  for  I  have  eaten 
that  little  plate  whiqh  the  sequestrators  left  me  ;  I  have  eaten  a 
great  library  of  excellent  books  ;  I  have  eaten  a  great  deal  of  lin- 
en, much  of  my  brass,  some  of  my  pewter,  and  now  I  am  come 
to  eat  iron,  and  what  will  come  next  I  know  not." 

Prideaux  survived  his  misfortunes  for  many  years,  and  outlived 
the  king  for  whom  he  had  made  so  great  a  sacrifice.  On  the  20th 
of  July,  1650,  Prideaux  departed  this  life,  leaving  to  his  offspring 
M  2 


274  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

a  "  pious  poverty,  God's  blessing,  and  a  father's  blessing."  The 
event  drew  forth  various  eulogiums,  and  Cleveland,  the  poet,  sang 
his  praises  in  exalted  verse.  Prideaux  was  twice  married,  and 
had  a  large  family.  As  a  writer,  he  has  left  several  works,  prin- 
cipally in  the  Lathi  tongue,  which  evince  great  learning  and  clear- 
ness. In  his  habits  he  was  devout,  simple-minded,  humble,  and 
virtuous.  He  had  a  horror  of  any  thing  like  pride,  and,  as  a 
perpetual  remembrancer  of  his  humble  origin,  the  coarse  attire 
in  which  he  walked  from  Stowford  to  Oxford  was  hung  up  in  his 
wardrobe,  by  the  side  of  his  episcopal  robes.  He  was  emphatic- 
ally a  good  man,  and  a  remarkable  instance  of  that  strength  of 
character  which  is  the  peculiar  blessing  of  self-made  men,  and 
which,  wherever  and  whenever  manifest,  rises  superior  to  iron 
fortune  and  cruel  circumstances. 


KOGER   WILLIAMS. 

THE  founder  of  religious  toleration  in  the  New  World  is  just- 
ly esteemed  a  worthy  of  American  history,  and  his  name  will 
endure  so  long  as  civilization  shall  have  its  records.  Of  the 
early  history  of  this  illustrious  individual  we  know  nothing,  ex- 
cept that,  whatever  his  birth  and  education,  he  had  to  fight  his 
way  in  the  world.  In  England,  of  which  country  he  was  a  sub- 
ject (having  been  born  in  Wales  in  the  year  1599),  the  independ- 
ence of  his  views,  and  the  earnestness  with  which  he  inculcated 
them  from  the  pulpit,  soon  raised  him  up  an  army  of  enemies  and 
detractors.  To  escape  these,  he  emigrated  on  the  1st  of  Decem- 
ber, 1630,  in  the  ship  Lion,  from  the  port  of  Bristol.  After  a 
tempestuous  voyage  of  sixty-six  days,  he  arrived  at  Boston  on 
the  5th  of  February,  1631,  where  he  was  received  by  the  Church 
with  every  manifestation  of  delight.  Williams' s  reputation  as  a 
powerful  and  earnest  preacher  had  preceded  him,  and  the  theoc- 
racy of  Narraganset  Bay  looked  to  him  as  an  instrument  of  might 
sent  for  their  special  good.  There  is  no  doubt  but  he  was,  although 
not  in  the  way  they  intended. 


276  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

It  seems  strange  in  these  days  to  say  that  a  man  was  "re- 
markable" for  advocating  entire  freedom  of  conscience ;  yet  such 
was  the  case  with  Roger  Williams.  The  doctrine  was  new  and 
particularly  unpalatable  in  England.  In  Massachusetts  it  was 
equally  offensive.  He  left  the  former  country  in  consequence, 
but  in  the  latter  he  was  determined  to  fight  it  out.  It  will  be 
seen  in  the  sequel  that  the  struggle  was  long  and  bitter,  but 
triumphant.  Society,  as  it  then  existed  in  Massachusetts,  was 
completely  under  the  dictation  of  the  Church.  The  religious 
and  the  civil  power  were  blended  together,  and  the  people,  accus- 
tomed to  it,  and  to  a  great  extent  preferring  it,  bent  their  necks 
or  their  knees,  as  occasion  demanded.  They  did  not  think  for 
themselves,  but  left  that  task  to  their  pastors,  believing  that  it 
was  impossible  to  think  rightly  in  the  absence  of  clerkly  lore. 
Then,  if  they  neglected  their  duty,  they  submitted  to  the  interpo- 
sition of  the  magistrates,  who  made  them  do  all  that  the  pastors 
said  they  ought  to  do.  In  such  a  community  Roger  Williams 
was  not  destined  to  be  long  at  peace.  Very  shortly  after  his  ar- 
rival he  removed  to  Salem,  and,  in  opposition  to  the  magistrates 
of  Boston,  became  minister  of  the  church  there.  As  his  opinions 
became  known,  the  opposition  became  more  intense  and  irksome. 
Notwithstanding  some  popularity  in  Salem,  he  found  it  desirable, 
for  the  sake  of  peace  and  quietness,  to  remove  out  of  the  jurisdic- 
tion of  the  court  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  and  seek  a  secluded  home 
in  the  colony  of  Plymouth.  For  this  purpose  he  migrated  in  the 
autumn  of  1631,  and  was  cordially  received  by  the  Pilgrim  fa- 
thers; but  the  court  of  Massachusetts  pursued  him,  and  tried 
very  hard  to  frighten  away  his  congregation  with  rumors  of  her- 
esy. It  is  probable  that  this  hostility  was  not  without  its  result, 
for  in  August  of  1633  we  find  Roger  Williams  returning  to  Salem, 
as  if  with  the  special  object  of  bearding  the  lion  in  his  den.  His 
residence  in  Plymouth  was  principally  remarkable  for  numerous 
excursions  among  the  Indians,  during  which  he  studied  their  lan- 
guage, and  obtained  much  moral  power  over  many  chiefs  of  tribes. 
"  God  was  pleased  to  give  me,"  he  says,  "  a  painful,  patient  spirit, 
to  lodge  with  them  in  their  filthy,  smoky  holes,  even  while  I  lived 
at  Plymouth  and  Salem,  to  gain  their  tongue." 

With  his  second  sojourn  in  Salem  Roger  Williams's  eventful 
history  properly  commences.  The  magistrates  renewed  their 
hostility,  but,  in  spite  of  this,  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  pas- 


ROGER  WILLIAMS.  277 

torship  of  the  church.  One  of  his  first  acts  was  to  call  in  ques- 
tion the  expediency  of  a  meeting  of  ministers,  which  had  been  es- 
tablished in  the  colony  for  the  discussion  of  questions  in  theology, 
and  for  other  similar  purposes  of  mutual  improvement.  The 
magistrates  saw  in  this  the  indications  of  a  wavering  orthodoxy, 
which  might  at  any  moment  inquire  into  their  expediency.  An- 
other oifense  was  a  pamphlet  which  Williams  had  written,  but 
never  published,  "  On  the  Nature  of  the  Eight  claimed  by  the 
Monarchs  of  the  several  Nations  of  Christendom  to  dispose  of  the 
countries  of  Barbarous  Tribes,  by  virtue  of  discovery."  In  this 
treatise,  says  Governor  Winthrop,  "  among  other  things,  he  dis- 
puted their  right  to  the  land  they  possessed,  and  concluded  that, 
claiming  by  the  king's  grant,  they  could  have  no  title,  nor  other- 
wise, except  they  compounded  with  the  natives."  Notwithstand- 
ing the  fact  that  this  pamphlet  was  simply  a  manuscript  docu- 
ment in  his  own  desk,  he  was  required  to  surrender  it  to  the 
authorities,  and,  as  they  considered  it  dangerous  and  offensive, 
he  was  summoned  to  appear  before  the  court  and  receive  cen- 
sure. Williams  replied  to  the  magistrates  that  his  pamphlet  had 
been  written  "only  for  the  private  satisfaction  of  the  Governor  of 
Plymouth,"  and,  while  disclaiming  any  intention  of  offending  the 
authorities,  adhered  manfully  to  the  opinions  he  had  uttered,  but 
sent  the  manuscript  to  be  burned  by  the  hangman,  if  they  thought 
fit.  This  bold  course  appears  to  have  mollified  the  authorities ; 
"  they  found  the  matters  not  to  be  so  evil  as  at  first  they  seemed." 
The  fundamental  point  on  which  Williams  differed  from  his 
contemporaries,  and  which  was  the  immediate  cause  of  the  hostil- 
ity of  the  court  of  Massachusetts,  was  that  of  liberty  of  conscience. 
He  believed  "that  no  human  power  had  the  right  to  intermeddle 
in  matters  of  conscience  ;  and  that  neither  Church  nor  State,  nei- 
ther bishop,  nor  priest,  nor  king,  may  prescribe  the  smallest  iota 
of  religious  faith."  Living  in  a  community  where  every  thing 
was  prescribed,  this  doctrine  was  singularly  sweeping  and  hereti- 
cal. It  is  not  remarkable,  therefore,  that  every  new  assertion  of 
it  was  listened  to  by  the  authorities  with  horror  and  misgiving — 
a  protest  against  things  as  they  existed.  His  own  church  was 
satisfied,  but  even  this  was  looked  on  with  displeasure,  as  an  evi- 
dence of  malign  influence  already  exerted.  To  increase  the  bad 
feeling,  a  spirit  of  jealousy  had  sprung  up  between  Salem  and 
Boston,  and  any  unusual  proceedings  in  the  former  found  savage 


278  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

commentators  in  the  latter.  The  result  was  that  Williams  had 
to  appear  constantly  before  the  court  on  the  most  trivial  charges. 
Eminent  divines,  with  no  stain  of  heterodoxy  on  their  characters, 
were  sent  to  convert  the  obdurate  Williams ;  but  he  was  unyield- 
ing, and  they  came  back  with  more  confirmed  notions  of  his  dan- 
gerousness.  The  exaggerations  which  were  the  natural  result 
of  these  interviews  were  repelled  by  straightforward  declarations 
from  Williams,  denying  what  he  did  not  believe,  and  reiterating 
the  faith  which  he  held.  He  was  unmerciful  on  the  civil  power. 
"  It  extends,"  he  maintained,  "  only  to  the  bodies,  and  goods,  and 
outward  estates  of  men  ;"  concerning  spiritual  matters,  "  the  civil 
magistrate  may  not  intermeddle,  even  to  stop  a  church  from  apos- 
tasy and  heresy." 

An  opportunity  soon  occurred  for  venting  the  displeasure  of 
the  court  not  only  against  Williams,  but  against  Salem.  The  peo- 
ple of  the  latter  town  preferred  to  the  court  a  claim  for  a  tract  of 
land  lying  in  Marblehead  Neck ;  but  the  court,  as  a  punishment 
for  the  contempt  of  authority  the  town  had  shown  in  settling  Mr. 
Williams,  refused. to  allow  the  claim.  The  injustice  of  this  re- 
fusal excited  the  sturdy  spirit  of  Williams.  In  conjunction  with 
the  Church,  he  wrote  "  letters  of  admonition  unto  all  the  church- 
es, whereof  any  of  the  magistrates  were  members,  that  they  might 
admonish  the  magistrates  of  their  injustice."  This  direct  appeal 
from  the  terrible  decision  of  the  court  Avas  too  flagrant  to  be  tol- 
erated. The  deputies  of  Salem  were  deprived  of  their  seats  un- 
til the  letter  had  been  satisfactorily  explained,  and  ample  apology 
made  for  its  doctrines.  The  town  of  Salem,  terrified  by  these 
proceedings,  made  the  proper  submission,  but  not  before  Williams 
had  farther  committed  himself  by  urging  them  to  renounce  all 
communion  with  the  other  churches  of  the  colony.  Thus  aban- 
doned by  his  Church  and  his  townsmen,  he  stood  alone  to  face  the 
fierce  storm  which  was  gathering.  A  committee  was  sent  to  Sa- 
lem to  deal  with  him  and  censure  him  ;  but  he  refused  to  be  dealt 
with  and  censured,  and  expressed  himself  "  ready  to  be  bound, 
and  banished,  and  even  to  die,"  but  not  to  renounce  his  conscien- 
tious convictions.  In  the  following  July  he  was  summoned  to 
Boston  to  answer  the  charges  brought  against  him  at  the  General 
Court,  which  was  then  in  session.  The.  following  were  the  charges : 
"  First,  that  the  magistrate  ought  not  to  punish  the  breach  of  the 
first  table  otherwise  than  in  such  cases  as  did  disturb  the  civil 


EOGER  WILLIAMS.  279 

peace.  Secondly,  that  he  ought  not  to  tender  an  oath  to  an  un- 
regenerate  man.  Thirdly,  that  he  ought  not  to  pray  with  such, 
though  wife,  child,  etc.  Fourthly,  that  a  man  ought  not  to  give 
thanks  after  sacrament,  nor  after  meat."  These  charges  were  the 
subject  of  long  and  serious  debate,  which  terminated  in  allowing 
him  and  the  Church  in  Salem  "  time  to  consider  these  things  till 
the  next  General  Court,  and  then  either  to  give  satisfaction  or  to 
expect  the  sentence." 

The  next  General  Court  met  in  October,  1635.  Williams  ap- 
peared in  obedience  to  the  summons,  and  stood  manfully  to  his 
principles.  Many  of  his  old  adherents  deserted  him  now  that  the 
crisis  had  arrived.  He  stood  alone,  the  majestic  impersonifica- 
tion  of  Principle.  The  decision  of  the  court  was  as  follows : 
"Whereas,  Mr.  Roger  Williams,  one  of  the  elders  of  the  Church 
of  Salem,  hath  broached  and  divulged  divers  new  and  dangerous 
opinions  against  the  authority  of  magistrates,  as  also  writ  letters 
of  defamation,  both  of  the  magistrates  and  churches  here,  and  that 
before  any  conviction,  and  yet  maintaineth  the  same  without  any 
retraction  ;  it  is  therefore  ordered  that  the  said  Mr.  Williams  shall 
depart  out  of  this  jurisdiction  within  six  weeks  now  next  ensu- 
ing, which  if  he  neglect  to  perform,  it  shall  be  lawful  for  the  gov- 
ernor and  two  of  the  magistrates  to  send  him  to  some  place  out 
of  this  jurisdiction,  not  to  return  any  more  without  license  of  the 
court."  This  unjust  decree  was  endorsed  by  all  the  ministers 
save  one ;  but,  notwithstanding  this  clerical  sanction,  it  caused 
much  excitement,  and  the  more  moderate  of  the  colonists  viewed 
the  act  with  abhorrence.  It  was  complained  soon  afterward  that 
people  were  "taken  with  an  apprehension  of  his  godliness;"  that 
is  to  say,  they  began  to  look  on  him  in  the  light  of  a  martyr. 
This  unexpected  sympathy  threw  the  court  into  new  doubts.  It 
was  apprehended  that  many  of  his  old  communicants  would  with- 
draw with  him,  and  thus,  perhaps,  found  a  new  and  rival  colony. 
To  prevent  this,  it  was  determined  to  ship  the  refractory  clergy- 
man to  England,  and  so  dispose  of  him  for  good.  A  fresh  sum- 
mons was  served  on  him,  demanding  his  presence  once  more  be- 
fore the  court  at  Boston  ;  but  this  he  was  unwilling  or  unable  to 
respect.  His  health  had  given  way  under  the  manifold  oppres- 
sions and  persecutions  to  which  he  had  been  subjected.  The 
magistrates  were  too  eager  to  be  thus  bluffly  foiled.  A  warrant 
was  sent  to  Salem  to  apprehend  him,  and  convey  him  on  board 


280  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

un  English  vessel  in  the  harbor.  The  officer  to  whom  was  in- 
trusted the  unpleasant  task  found  Mrs.  Williams  and  her  family, 
but  Roger  Williams  had  departed.  The  cold  winter  wind  howled 
over  the  dreary  landscape  where  he  wandered,  and  the  falling 
flakes  of  snow  obliterated  all  traces  of  his  footsteps. 

For  days  and  days  he  wandered  in  the  unbeaten  tracks  of  the 
forest,  across  wild  ridges  of  mountains,  through  treacherous  mo- 
rasses, over  still  more  treacherous  snow-banks.  "  I  was  severely 
tossed,"  says  he,  "  for  fourteen  weeks,  in  a  bitter  winter  season, 
not  knowing  what  bread  or  bed  did  mean."  Broken  in  health 
and  spirits,  pursued  by  well-grounded  fears  of  apprehension,  scent- 
ed by  wild  beasts,  can  any  thing  more  pathetic,  more  earnest  be 
imagined  than  the  picture  of  this  true  Christian  patriot,  toiling 
through  the  savage  wilds,  and  sustaining  himself  with  the  one 
hope  that  he  might  yet  succeed  in  removing  the  bandage  from 
bigot  eyes,  and  the  one  conviction  that  he  was  Right  before  God. 

During  his  early  residence  at  Plymouth  he  availed  himself  of 
many  opportunities  of  cultivating  a  friendly  feeling  with  the  In- 
dians, and  even  acquired  some  knowledge  of  their  language.  In 
his  wanderings  he  reaped  the  advantage  of  these  advances.  He 
fell  in  with  many  tribes.  "  These  ravens  fed  me  in  the  wilder- 
ness," he  says,  and  his  life  was  doubtless  preserved  by  their  kindly 
hospitality.  The  famous  chief  Massasoit  was  more  than  kind.  He 
received  the  toil-spent  wanderer,  overwhelmed  him  with  attentions, 
and,  when  the  spring  came,  gave  him  a  tract  of  land  on  the  See- 
konk  River,  where  "  he  pitched,  and  began  to  build  and  plant." 
When  the  news  of  his  safety  reached  his  Salem  friends,  several 
of  them  flocked  to  his  side,  anxious  to  share  his  exile,  and  to  help 
establish  an  independent  colony,  where  toleration  should  be  more 
than  an  empty  word.  All  bade  fair  to  end  happily,  when  suddenly 
Williams  received  a  communication  from  the  Governor  of  Plym- 
outh, informing  him  that  he  was  still  within  the  bounds  of  the 
colony,  and  advising  him  to  remove  to  the  other  side  of  the  river. 
The  advice  was  tendered  in  a  friendly  way,  and  Williams  took  it 
without  hesitation.  He  abandoned  the  land  he  had  commenced 
tilling,  pulled  down  the  house  he  had  built,  and,  embarking  in  a 
rude  Indian  canoe,  dropped  down  the  stream  in  company  with 
five  companions.  He  passed  round  the  headlands  now  known  as 
Fox  Point  and  Indian  Point,  up  ^1C  harbor  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Mooshanic  River,  and  there  landed.  It  was  summer  now,  and 


ROGER  WILLIAMS.  281 

the  foliage  looked  bright  and  beautiful  in  the  gay  sunshine.  The 
solitude  of  primeval  nature  was  unbroken  save  by  the  chirruping 
of  birds  and  the  murmuring  of  a  beautiful  spring  at  which  they 
refreshed  themselves.  Roger  Williams  felt  that  he  had  been 
guided  to  this  delicious  retreat  by  an  all-wise  Providence,  and 
with  a  thankful  heart  he  called  the  spot  Providence,  and  struck 
the  first  stake  of  the  "  plantations  of  Providence."  "  Rhode 
Island,"  says  Mr.  Bonner,  in  his  excellent  "  Child's  History  of 
the  United  States,"  "is  a  very  small  state,  and  looks  quite  in- 
significant on  the  map  when  compared  with  such  great  states  as 
New  York,  Pennsylvania,  and  Ohio ;  but  when  I  remember  that 
Rhode  Island  was  the  first  place  in  the  world  where  liberty  of 
conscience  was  established,  I  can  not  think  of  any  country  in 
which  it  is  more  glorious  to  have  been  born." 

We  have  seen  that  Roger  Williams  attached  no  importance  to 
the  patents  which  kings  were  in  the  habit  of  granting  because  he 
argued  they  had  no  right  to  grant  what  did  not  belong  to  them. 
He  did  not  feel  justified,  however,  in  taking  possession  of  the 
island  on  which  he  found  himself  without  first  obtaining  permis- 
sion from  the  rightful  owners.  He  went,  therefore,  to  the  sa- 
chems of  the  country,  and  purchased  the  lands  "  lying  upon  the 
two  fresh  rivers  called  Mooshanic  and  Wanasquatucket."  In 
consideration  of  former  kindnesses,  the  Indians  voluntarily  ceded 
to  him  all  the  other  land  lying  between  the  above-named  rivers 
and  the  Pawtuxet.  In  order  to  raise  the  funds  needed  for  this 
purpose,  and  for  removing  his  wife  and  family  to  the  new  settle- 
ment, he  had  to  mortgage  his  house  and  land  in  Salem.  Little 
did  he  imagine  how  utterly  unequal  the  bargain  would  soon  be- 
come. 

His  ambition  was  to  make  the  new  settlement  "a  shelter  for 
persons  distressed  for  conscience."  It  was  no  part  of  his  plan  to 
assume  any  kind  of  authority  over  the  settlers,  or  to  take  for  his 
share  more  land  than  they  had  for  theirs,  although  of  right  it  all 
belonged  to  him.  Those  who  came  were  located  cheerfully,  and 
not  a  penny  demanded.  Thus  humanely  and  generously  did  this 
good  man  found  the  infant  State  of  Rhode  Island.  As,  however, 
some  kind  of  obligation  was  needed  from  the  many  who  now 
flocked  to  the  settlement,  the  following  instrument  was  drawn  up, 
and  adopted  by  each  new  resident :  "  We,  whose  names  are  here 
underwritten,  being  desirous  to  inhabit  the  town  of  Providence, 


282  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

do  promise  to  submit  ourselves,  in  active  or  passive  obedience,  to 
all  such  orders  or  agreements  as  shall  be  made  for  the  public  good 
of  the  body,  in  an  orderly  way,  by  the  major  consent  of  the  pres- 
ent inhabitants,  masters  of  families,  incorporated  together  into  a 
township,  and  such  others  whom  they  shall  admit  into  the  same, 
only  in  civil  things."  It  was  June,  1G36,  when  Williams  stepped 
on  shore  from  his  canoe ;  this  simple  compact  endured  for  four 
years,  without  any  special  interpreters.  In  1640  we  find  men- 
tion of  a  treasurer,  but  of  no  other  officer.  It  was  a  complete 
little  family  party,  with  a  glorious,  genial,  generous  father  at  its 
head. 

If  Roger  Williams  ever  bore  resentment  against  the  authori- 
ties of  Massachusetts  Bay,  he  soon  forgot  it.  During  the  Pequot 
war,  which  ended  in  the  extermination  of  the  Pequot  race,  he  ex- 
erted himself  with  remarkable  bravery  and  ardor  on  their  behalf, 
and  subsequently  he  never  missed  an  opportunity  of  proving  how 
easily  a  good  man  may  forget  injury.  But  the  authorities  were 
not  to  be  appeased.  They  saw  that  the  disaffected  of  their  own 
colony  flew  to  Roger  Williams's  settlement  as  to  a  place  of  sanc- 
tuary ;  that  they  became  good  citizens  there,  and  did  as  their 
conscience  bade  them,  without  bringing  perdition  on  those  around 
them.  What  was  worse,  they  raised  their  voices  against  the  bigot- 
ry and  intolerance  of  the  older  colony,  and  loudly  denounced  every 
fresh  act  of  injustice.  A  letter  was  even  dictated,  coming  from 
Providence,  which  complained  of  the  acts  of  the  General  Court 
and  the  prevailing  spirit  of  the  colony.  The  authorities  became 
greatly  incensed,  and  immediately  passed  an  order  that  if  any  of 
the  settlers  of  Providence  should  be  found  within  the  jurisdiction 
of  Massachusetts,  he  should  be  brought  before  one  of  the  magis- 
trates, and,  if  he  gave  his  sanction  to  the  letter,  he  should  be  sent 
home,  and  forbidden  to  come  again  into  the  jurisdiction,  on  pain 
of  imprisonment  and  farther  censure.  The  effect  of  this  unjust 
act  was  severely  felt  in  Providence,  but  no  revengeful  spirit  was 
aroused  in  the  tranquil  bosom  of  Roger  Williams. 

He  was  doomed,  however,  to  be  sorely  perplexed,  soon  after,  by 
a  wild  fellow  named  Gorton,  who,  after  having  been  turned  out 
of  the  Boston,  Plymouth,  and  Rhode  Island  settlements,  sought 
refuge  at  Providence.  He  was  of  course  welcomed,  but  the  sim- 
ple restraints  of  the  compact  we  have  copied  were  insufficient  for 
his  turbulent  spirit.  Gorton  had  his  adherents,  who  followed 


ROGER  WILLIAMS.  28i) 

him  in  his  various  ejectments,  and  who  soon  got  the  little  com- 
munity into  a  dispute.  It  is  said  that  the  inhabitants  of  Provi- 
dence became  so  incensed  that  they  appealed  to  arms,  and  it  was 
only  by  the  personal  intervention  of  Williams  that  a  combat  of 
the  two  parties  was  averted.  The  anger  excited  by  this  state  of 
things  did  not  soon  subside.  To  end  the  dispute,  the  weaker  par- 
ty sent  an  appeal  to  Massachusetts  for  aid — contrary,  of  course, 
to  the  wish  of  Williams.  It  was  refused,  but  the  appeal  suggest- 
ed a  new  course  of  policy  to  the  Massachusetts  authority.  This 
was  none  other  than  to  assert,  whenever  the  opportunity  occur- 
red, complete  jurisdiction  over  the  settlement  of  Providence. 

The  confederation  of  the  colonies  of  New  England  for  mutual 
protection  took  place  in  1643.  Plymouth,  Massachusetts  Bay, 
Connecticut,  and  New  Haven  were  the  parties  to  the  union, 
Providence  being  entirely  ignored.  An  application  was  subse- 
quently made  by  this  settlement,  and  by  the  sister  one  of  Rhode 
Island,  to  be  included  in  the  compact,  but  it  was  sternly  refused. 
The  settlers  on  the  plantations  were  thus  thrown  entirely  on  their 
own  resources  for  protection  as  well  as  support.  They  continued 
in  prosperity,  however,  and  daily  received  new  accessions  to  their 
strength.  Their  neighbors  constantly  taunted  them  with  their 
exposed  position,  and  insisted  that  they  were  even  without  any 
civil  power.  Finding  themselves  thus  placed,  they  were  induced 
at  length  to  unite  in  seeking  the  favor  and  protection  of  the  moth- 
er country.  The  mission  was  intrusted  to  Eoger  Williams,  who, 
in  the  summer  of  1643,  set  sail  from  New  York  for  his  native 
land.  He  was  received  cordially,  especially  by  Sir  Henry  Vane, 
a  member  of  the  Privy  Council,  who  was  himself  a  famous  advo- 
cate of  freedom  of  conscience.  Mainly  through  his  exertions, 
Williams  succeeded  in  getting  a  charter  for  the  towns  of  Provi- 
dence, Portsmouth,  and  Newport,  entitled  "  The  Incorporation  of 
Providence  Plantations,  in  the  Narraganset  Bay,  in  New.  En- 
gland." The  charter  was  dated  March  14th,  1644,  and  gave  to 
the  inhabitants  full  power  "to  make  and  ordain  such  civil  laws 
and  constitutions  as  they,  or  the  greatest  part  of  them,  shall  by 
free  consent  agree  unto."  The  charter  distinctly  recognized  all 
that  was  claimed  for  the  civil  government  by  the  founder  of  the 
colony,  and  had  the  additional  virtue  of  not  going  farther  than 
was  actually  needed.  Having  accomplished  all  that  his  most  san- 
guine wishes  led  him  to  expect,  he  returned  to  America,  and  ar- 


284  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

rived  at  Boston  on  the  17th  of  September,  1G44.  He  brought 
with  him  a  conciliatory  letter  to  the  authorities,  signed  by  some 
of  the  most  eminent  men  in  England ;  but  it  had  no  effect.  The 
only  concession  they  made  was  to  allow  him  to  pass  through  their 
territory  unmolested.  A  far  different  reception  awaited  him  in 
his  own  settlement.  All  the  inhabitants  turned  out  to  meet  him 
upon  the  road  and  bear  him  back  in  triumph. 

Owing  to  fresh  disturbances  among  the  Indians,  and  other 
causes,  a  form  of  government  under  the  new  charter  was  not 
agreed  upon  until  May,  1647.  Roger  Williams' s  disinterested 
love  was  again  manifested.  Instead  of  becoming  the  first  presi- 
dent of  the  new  colony,  as  of  right  he  should  hvae  been,  he*  ac- 
cepted the  subordinate  office  of  assistant  for  the  town  of  Provi- 
dence. We  do  not  find  such  modesty  among  public  men  in  our 
days.  One  of  the  first  acts  of  the  new  Assembly  was  to  vote  a 
sum  of  one  hundred  pounds  to  defray  the  expenses  which  Roger 
Williams  had  been  put  to  in  obtaining  the  charter  from  the  En- 
glish government.  We  are  sorry  to  add  that  this  sum  was  never 
paid  in  full.  A  code  of  laws  was  also  adopted  at  the  same  meet- 
ing, similar  in  spirit  to  those  of  the  mother  country,  but  with 
this  characteristic  provision,  that,  "  otherwise  than  what  is  herein 
forbidden,  all  men  may  walk  as  their  consciences  persuade  them, 
every  one  in  the  fear  of  his  God." 

The  sacrifices  he  had  made  for  the  public  service,  and  the  in- 
ability or  unwillingness  of  the  colonists,  to  reimburse  him,  com- 
pelled Williams  (who  had  a  large  family)  to  seek  an  honest  living 
in  some  profitable  mercantile  way.  The  fur  trade  was  then  ex- 
tensively carried  on,  and  it  occurred  ta  him  that,  by  establishing 
a  trading-house,  he  might  easily  secure  much  of  the  Indian  traffic. 
His  popularity  with  the  various  tribes  and  knowledge  of  their  lan- 
guage rendered  him  peculiarly  fitted  for  this  business.  Accord- 
ingly, he  withdrew  from  the  town,  and  erected  a  trading-house. 
He  was  not  disappointed  in  his  expectations.  The  Indians  were 
delighted  to  deal  with  a  man  so  fair,  honest,  and  straightforward. 
In  a  little  while  he  established  a  remunerative  business,  which  he 
says  brought  him  in  a  hundred  pounds  a  year  profit.  He  was  not 
destined  long  to  enjoy  this  gleam  of  prosperity.  A  number  of 
difficulties  sprung  up  in  the  little  colony,  arising  from  the  loose 
wording  of  the  charter.  Dissensions  were  rife,  and  ill-will  grew 
up  between  man  and  man.  The  best  disposed  appealed  to  Roger 


EOGER  WILLIAMS.  285 

Williams  for  help ;  they  prayed  that  he  would  once  more  go  to 
England  for  them,  and  permanently  settle  all"  the  points  which 
caused  this  agitation.  With  a  wife  and  a  large  family  to  support, 
and  the  recollection  of  former  losses,  he  was  at  first  naturally  un- 
willing to  undertake  this  mission  ;  but  when  fresh  and  more  earn- 
est representations  were  made  to  him,  he  yielded.  The  colonists 
were  too  poor  to  pay  his  expenses,  so  he  sold  his  trading-house, 
and  once  more  sailed  for  England.  Under  the  auspices  of  Sir 
Henry  Vane,  he  was  again  triumphant.  It  needed  time,  however, 
to  obtain  all  that  was  required,  and  for  a  poor  man  time  is  a  very 
expensive  luxury.  In  order,  therefore,  to  support  his  wife  and 
family  at  home,  he  obtained  employment  in  London  as  a  teacher 
of  languages.  During  his  sojourn  he  received  a  letter  from  the 
General  Assembly  of  Providence,  thanking  him  for  his  care  and 
diligence,  and  expressing  the  opinion  "that  it  might  tend  much 
to  the  weighing  of  men's  minds,  and  subjecting  of  persons  who 
have  been  refractory  to  yield  themselves  over  as  unto  a  settled 
government,  if  it  might  be  the  pleasure  of  the  honorable  state  to 
invest,  appoint,  and  empower  himself  to  come  over  as  governor  of 
the  colony  for  the  space  of  one  year."  A  request  like  this  was  so 
diametrically  opposed  to  his  principles,  that  Williams  merely  put 
the  letter  in  his  pocket.  That  was  the  last  heard  of  it.  In  the 
summer  of  1654  he  returned  to  Providence,  and  was  dismayed  to 
find  the  colony  still  in  a  distracted  state,  and  its  people  quarreling 
and  fighting  among  themselves.  A  meeting  of  the  town  was  soon 
after  held,  and  subsequently  of  the  commissioners  of  all  the  towns, 
which  resulted  in  the  reorganizing  of  the  colony,  and  the  adoption 
of  measures  for  its  future  prosperity  and  happiness.  At  the  first 
general  election  Roger  Williams  was  chosen  president  of  the  col- 
ony. His  administration  lasted  two  years,  and  was  marked  by 
great  liberality  of  sentiment  and  firmness  of  character.  In  such 
a  strangely-mixed  community,  it  was  not  remarkable  that  some 
vexatious  spirits  should  try  to  abuse  the  freedom  which  they  enjoy- 
ed, and  convert  it  into  an  irresponsible  license.  They  were  soon 
aroused  to  a  perception  of  what  liberty  of  conscience  meant.  In  a 
quaint  letter,  Roger  Williams  gave  them  an  insight  into  the  kind 
of  authority  that  might  be  exercised  over  them.  "There  goes 
many  a  ship  to  sea,"  he  wrote,  "  with  many  hundred  souls  in  one 
ship,  whose  weal  and  woe  is  common,  and  is  a  true  picture  of  a 
commonwealth,  or  a  human  combination  or  society.  It  hath  fall- 


286  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

en  out,  sometimes,  that  both  Papists  and  Protestants,  Jews  and 
Turks,  may  be  embarked  in  one  ship;  upon  which  supp<»;il.  I 
affirm  that  all  the  liberty  of  conscience  that  ever  I  pleaded  for 
turns  upon  these  two  hinges:  that  none  of  the  Papists,  Protest- 
ants, Jews,  or  Turks  be  forced  to  come  to  the  ship's  prayers  or 
worship,  or  compelled  from  their  own  particular  prayers  or  wor- 
ship, if  they  practice  any.  I  further  add,  that  I  never  denied  that, 
notwithstanding  this  liberty,  the  commander  of  this  ship  ought  to 
command  the  ship's  course,  yea,  and  also  command  that  justice-, 
peace,  and  sobriety  may  be  kept  and  practiced,  both  among  the 
Heamen  and  all  the  passengers.  If  any  of  the  seamen  refuse  to 
perform  their  service,  or  passengers  to  pay  their  freight ;  if  any 
refuse  to  help,  in  person  or  purse,  toward  the  common  charges  or 
defense  ;  if  any  refuse  to  obey  the  common  laws  and  orders  of  the 
ship  concerning  their  common  peace  and  preservation ;  if  any  shall 
mutiny  and  rise  up  against  their  commanders  and  officers;  if  any 
shall  preach  or  write  that  there  ought  to  be  no  commanders  or 
officers,  because  all  are  equal  in  Christ,  therefore  no  masters  and 
officers,  no  laws  nor  orders,  no  corrections  nor  punishments — I 
say  I  never  denied  but  in  such  cases,  whatever  is  pretended,  the 
commander  or  commanders  may  judge,  resist,  compel,  and  punish 
such  transgressors,  according  to  their  deserts  and  merits.  This, 
if  seriously  and  honestly  minded,  may,  if  it  so  please  the  Father  of 
Lights,  let  in  some  light  to  such  as  willingly  shut  not  their  eyes." 
In  spite  of  this  plain  definition  of  what  the  authorities  might  do, 
a  hot  dispute  arose  between  Roger  Williams  and  an  extremist  of 
the  name  of  Harris,  who  maintained  that,  according  to  his  con- 
science, he  "  ought  not  to  yield  subjection  to  any  human  order 
among  men."  This  strange  being  was  afterward  prosecuted,  but 
with  no  result,  the  case  being  sent  to  England  for  adjudication. 
In  the  controversy  which  ensued,  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  both 
Williams  and  Han-is  lost  their  tempers.  That  liberty  of  con- 
science was  amply  maintained,  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word,  was 
proved  by  the  fact  that  the  persecuted  Quakers  found  a  refuge  in 
the  colony,  where  they  were  amply  protected,  in  spite  of  the  re- 
monstrances and  threats  of  Massachusetts. 

In  May,  1658,  Roger  Williams  retired  from  the  office  of  presi- 
dent, with  no  desire  to  return  to  it.  He  was,  however,  frequent- 
ly honored  by  civil  appointments  of  trust  and  weight  when  great 
honesty  and  probity  were  needed  ;  and  in  the  new  charter  grant- 


ROGER  WILLIAMS.  287 

ed  by  Charles  the  Second  in  1G63,  was  appointed  one  of  the  as- 
sistants under  the  governor.  This  charter  was  the  one  for  which 
he  had  made  his  second  visit  to  England.  He  was  unable  to  re- 
main until  it  was  completed,  and  his  colleague,  Mr.  Clarke,  had 
the  honor  of  obtaining  it  from  the  king.  "  It  was  the  first  char- 
ter," says  Mr.  Gammell,  "  that  ever  bore  the  signature  of  a  king, 
and  was  the  astonishment  of  the  age  in  which  it  was  granted. 
Like  that  which  preceded  it,  it  secured  the  most  perfect  freedom 
in  matters  of  conscience,  and  thus  guaranteed  the  perpetual  exer- 
cise of  the  great  principles  on  which  the  colony  was  founded.  It 
continued  to  be  the  fundamental  law  of  Rhode  Island  for  nearly 
a  hundred  and  eighty  years,  protecting  the  rights  and  securing 
the  happiness  of  a  long  succession  of  generations,  and  '  holding 
forth  a  lively  experiment  that  a  most  flourishing  civil  state  may 
stand,  and  best  be  maintained,  with  a  full  liberty  in  religious  con- 
cernments.' "  It  was  not  supplanted  until  1843. 

In  1670  Williams  was  again  chosen  assistant,  and  also  in  1677, 
but  declined  to  be  re-elected.  He  was  now  advanced  in  life,  and 
needed  repose.  It  was  probably  with  the  object  of  securing  this 
that  he  declined  the  solicitations  of  his  friends ;  but  a  man  of 
his  standing  and  popularity  was  not  likely  to  be  overlooked  in  or 
out  of  office.  In  1672  he  engaged  in  his  celebrated  Quaker  con- 
troversy, endeavoring  by  argument  to  confute  the  peculiar  doc- 
trines of  this  sect.  It  is  unnecessary  to  add  that  he  failed  in  this 
effort ;  but  it  is  well  to  remind  the  reader  that,  although  he  shel- 
tered the  Quakers  when  they  needed  shelter,  he  was  by  no  means 
their  friend,  and  frequently  displayed  more  temper  concerning 
them  than  we  can  account  for  by  his  antecedents.  In  the  sum- 
mer of  1675,  the  disastrous  Indian  crusade,  headed  by  the  famous 
King  Philip,  commenced.  It  was  intended,  by  a  confederation  of 
all  the  tribes,  to  expel  the  whites  from  the  country.  The  at- 
tempt was  vigorous,  and  ended  in  the  destruction  of  a  vast  amount 
of  property,  and  the  massacre  of  some  five  hundred  of  the  colo- 
nists. At  first  Williams  tried  to  exercise  his  wonted  power  over 
the  savage  minds  of  his  enemies,  but,  failing  in  this,  he  girded  on 
the  sword,  and  commanded  a  train-band  for  the  protection  of  the 
city.  Unfortunately,  it  fell  beneath  the  devastating  hands  of  the 
Indians,  and  most  of  the  public  records  were  destroyed,  thus  oblit- 
erating much  of  the  written  testimony  of  this  man's  excellence. 

The  remaining  years  of  Roger  Williams's  life  were  unmarked 


288  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

by  any  event  of  historical  importance,  or,  if  such  occurred,  we  are 
now  without  the  record.  It  is  probable  that  his  exertions  were 
directed  mainly  to  the  healing  of  old  sores  which  still  existed 
among  the  colonists,  and  that,  like  a  benevolent  sage,  he  acted 
the  part  of  a  public  pacificator.  At  the  time  of  his  death  he  was 
hi  his  eighty-fourth  year,  but  the  precise  day  when  he  departed 
this  life  is  unknown.  The  only  record  of  the  event  is  found  in  a 
letter  of  the  10th  of  May,  1G83,  which  mentions  "  that  the  Lord 
hath  arrested  by  death  our  ancient  and  approved  friend,  Mr.  Roger 
Williams,  with  divers  others  here." 

Mr.  Williams  was  the  author  of  several  literary  works,  mostly 
of  a  theological  and  controversial  character.  His  style  was  not 
remarkable  for  elegance  or  clearness,  but  it  possessed  a  rude  pio- 
neer strength  which  served  all  the  purposes  of  more  polished  com- 
position. As  an  ecclesiastic  he  has  been  accused,  and  not  unjust- 
ly, of  wavering  in  his  profession  of  doctrinal  faith ;  but  this  is 
not  remarkable.  His  experience  of  extreme  religious  tenacity, 
as  exhibited  by  the  ecclesiastics  of  Boston,  may  have  warned  him 
against  a  similar  course,  and  led  him  to  doubts,  and  fears,  and 
wanderings  in  search  of  the  truth.  One  thing  has  never  been 
doubted :  he  was  a  good  and  sincere  Christian,  indefatigable  in 
his  labors  and  unwearied  in  hi^  diligence,  and  "  one  of  the  most 
disinterested  men  that  ever  lived — a  most  pious  and  heavenly- 
minded  soul."* 

*  Callcnder. 


WILLIAM  BUTTON. 

THE  subject  of  this  memoir  was  a  native  of  England,  born  at 
Derby  on  the  30th  of  September,  1723.  His  parents  were  in 
very  humble  circumstances,  and  belonged  to  the  dissenting  sect. 
Hutton  says  that  they  were  remarkable  for  their  steady  love  of 
peace  and  pudding ;  remarkable,  also,  for  memory  ;  not  given 
much  to  receive,  keep,  or  pay  money ;  often  sensible,  always  mod- 
est ;  the  males  inactive,  the  females  distinguished  for  capacity. 
William  was  the  most  ordinary-looking  child  of  the  family,  and 
his  mother  used  to  say  that  she  was  afraid  she  could  not  love 
him ;  but  poverty — that  awful  test  of  human  goodness — softened 
her  heart,  and  she  was  true  and  kind  to  him  as  to  the  others. 
The  family  was  sorely  pressed  at  times,  and  more  than  once  the 
poor  woman  sat  with  one  infant  on  her  knee  and  others  nestled 
around  her,  on  the  cold  floor,  wailing  for  food,  and  when  at 
length  it  arrived  in  scanty  quantities,  she  surrendered  her  share 
to  the  more  eager  wants  of  her«offspring.  Time  produced  noth- 
ing but  tatters  and  children. 

A  lad  so  pitiably  circumstanced  was  not  likely  to  receive  much 
education.  For  a  very  short  time  he  was  sent  to  school,  and  un- 
derwent the  discipline  of  a  petty  tyrant,  who  imagined  that  it  was 
necessary  to  break  a  boy's  head  in  order  to  get  any  thing  into  it. 
At  the  age  of  seven  he  had  to  earn  his  own  living,  and  was  ac- 
cordingly apprenticed  for  seven  years  to  a  silk-mill.  As  he  was 
too  short  to  reach  the  engine,  the  superintendents  elevated  him 
on  a  pair  of  pattens,  and  on  this  false  footing  he  remained  until 
nature  kindly  supplied  him  with  a  few  more  inches. 

In  1733,  the  family  received  a  severe  blow  in  the  death  of  Mrs. 
Hutton.  It  was  a  fatal  event  for  the  children,  who  found  them- 
selves without  a  home,  for  their  father  took  to  drinking,  and  gave 
them  but  few  of  his  thoughts.  William  did  all  that  lay  in  his 
power,  and  struggled  with  his  hard  fate  bravely  and  cheerily ; 
but,  in  spite  of  his  attentions,  he  had  the  wretchedness  of  seeing 
his  little  sister  perish  of  want  and  neglect.  In  1737  he  quitted 
the  silk-mill,  of  which  he  gives  the  following  dismal  picture :  "  I 

N 


290  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

had  to  rise  at  five  every  morning  during  seven  years ;  submit  to 
the  cane  whenever  convenient  to  the  master;  be  the  constant 
companion  of  the  most  rude  and  vulgar  of  the  human  race,  never 
taught  by  nature,  nor  even  wishing  to  be  taught.  A  lad,  let  1m 
mind  be  in  what  state  it  would,  must  be  as  impudent  as  they,  or 
be  hunted  down."  The  following  year  he  removed  to  the  adjacent 
town  of  Nottingham,  where  he  found  a  generous,  friendly  uncle, 
and  a  mean,  sneaking  aunt — the  one  seriously  religious,  the  other 
seriously  hypocritical.  He  also  made  the  acquaintance  of  two  of 
his  uncle's  apprentices,  whom  he  describes,  the  one  as  a  rogue, 
the  other  as  a  greater.  Under  the  roof  of  this  relative  it  was 
intended  that  he  should  pass  seven  years  of  his  existence  in 
learning  the  business  of  stocking-weaving,  and  probably  would 
have  done  so  but  for  an  event  which  made  him  naturally  enough 
dissatisfied  with  the  treatment  he  received.  On  one  occasion  (it 
was  holiday  time)  William  was  a  little  behind-hand  with  his 
work.  His  uncle  noticed  it,  and  reproved  him  with  want  of  in- 
dustry, giving  him  at  the  same  time  a  task  to  be  executed  by  a 
certain  time.  The  day  arrived,  but  the  work  was  unfinished. 
"  Could  you  have  done  the  task  I  ordered  ?"  asked  the  uncle. 
William,  scorning  to  tell  a  falsehood,  meekly  replied,  "I  could." 
Instead  of  being  pleased  with  this  manly  acknowledgment,  his 
uncle  flew  into  a  violent  rage,  and  fell  on  his  nephew  with  a  stick, 
repeating  his  blows  until  the  lad  thought  he  would  be  broken  to 
pieces.  The  whole  neighborhood  was  aroused  by  the  clamor,  and 
a  double  punishment  was  thereby  inflicted  upon  the  lad.  The 
very  next  day  a  female  acquaintance  pointed  to  him  derisively  as 
the  boy  "  who  was  licked  last  night."  Stung  to  the  quick  by  the 
publicity  which  had  thus  been  given  to  his  disgrace,  he  resolved 
on  putting  an  end  to  it  by  flight.  Concealing  himself  till  the 
family  were  gone  to  meeting,  he  took  two  shillings  from  a  glass 
which  contained  ten,  and  packed  up  his  small  stock  of  movables. 
His  uncle  having  locked  the  door  and  taken  the  key  with  him, 
Hutton  was  compelled  to  scale  an  eight-feet  wall  to  make  good 
his  escape. 

He  was  now  a  boy  of  seventeen,  not  elegantly  dressed,  nearly 
five  feet  high,  and  rather  Dutch-built  in  appearance.  He  had  a 
long,  narrow  bag  of  brown  leather,  holding  about  a  bushel,  in 
which  was  neatly  packed  up  a  new  suit  of  clothes ;  also  a  white 
linen  bag,  holding  about  half  as  much,  containing  a  sixpenny  loaf 


WILLIAM  BUTTON.  291 

of  coarse  bread,  a  bit  of  butter  wrapped  in  the  leaves  of  an  old 
copy-book,  a  new  Bible  worth  three  shillings,  one  shirt,  a  pair  of 
stockings,  a  sun-dial,  and  his  best  wig,  carefully  folded  and  laid 
at  the  top,  so  that  it  might  not  be  crushed.  The  ends  of  the  two 
bags  being  tied  together,  he  slung  them  over  his  left  shoulder, 
while  hanging  to  the  button  of  the  coat  was  his  best  hat.  Thus 
heavily  caparisoned,  and  with  two  shillings  in  pocket,  he  started 
on  his  pursuit  of  fortune.  He  carried  neither  a  light  heart  nor 
a  light  load.  "  I  considered  myself,"  he  says,  "  an  outcast,  an 
exuberance  in  the  creation,  a  being  now  fitted  to  no  purpose." 
He  turned  his  steps  toward  his  home,  and  from  thence  proceeded 
to  Burton,  at  which  place  he  disbursed  the  first  penny  from  his 
scanty  funds — not  for  refreshment,  as  one  might  suppose,  but  for 
the  luxury  of  having  some  one  to  take  care  of  his  bags  while  he 
took  a  stroll  in  the  town.  In  the  evening  of  the  same  day  he 
reached  the  vicinity  of  Lichfield.  Hiding  his  bags  under  a  hedge, 
he  perambulated  the  city  for  two  hours,  and  then  returned  to  find 
a  lodging  for  the  night.  Having  been  disappointed  with  respect 
to  one  barn,  he  went  a  short  distance  to  look  after  another,  and, 
imagining  that  his  property  would  be  safe,  left  it  behind  him. 
After  an  absence  of  ten  minutes  he  returned,  and,  to  his  horror 
and  dismay,  discovered  that  his  treasure  had  disappeared.  Driven 
almost  to  madness  by  this  disaster,  he  ran  raving  and  lamenting 
about  the  fields,  roads,  and  streets,  asking  every  one  he  met  if 
they  had  seen  his  bags.  Midnight  approached,  and,  disappoint- 
ed and  broken-hearted,  he  threw  himself  on  a  butcher's  block 
to  rest  his  weary  limbs.  In  the  morning  he  recommenced  his 
search,  but  it  was  in  vain.  Possessing  nothing  now  but  the  pal- 
try remnants  of  his  two  shillings,  he  departed  once  more  for  the 
manufacturing  towns,  where  he  hoped  and  expected  to  obtain 
employ.  In  due  time  he  arrived  at  Birmingham.  There  wefe 
but  three  stocking-makers  in  the  place ;  to  these  Hutton  instantly 
applied.  The  first  was  a  Quaker,  who  refused  to  have  any  thing 
to  say  to  him  on  the  ground  that  he  was  an  apprentice  who  had 
run  away  from  his  employ.  The  second  gave  him  a  penny  to 
get  rid  of  him.  The  third  got  rid  of  him  without  the  penny. 
Dejected,  weary,  and  hungry,  he  sat  down  on  a  door-step  to  rest 
himself  and  meditate  on  his  hard  fortune.  While  thus  wretch- 
edly musing,  two  men  in  aprons  caught  sight  of  his  woeful  face, 
and,  taking  compassion  on  his  youth,  invited  him  to  a  supper  of 


292  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

bread  and  cheese  and  a  pint  of  ale.  Subsequently  they  procured 
him  a  bed  in  a  neighboring  tavern  at  an  expense  of  three  cents.  It 
does  not  necessarily  require  a  fortune  to  perform  a  kind  and  timely 
act  of  hospitality.  From  Birmingham  Hutton  proceeded  to  Cov- 
entry, and  thence  to  Nuneaton  and  Hinckley.  In  the  latter  place 
he  fell  in  with  a  townsman,  who  urged  him,  in  the  most  earnest 
manner,  to  return  to  his  uncle's.  Weary  of  his  misfortunes,  Hut- 
ton  was  ready  to  accede  to  any  proposition.  He  had  discovered 
that  running  away  was  by  no  means  a  certain  escape  from  present 
evils,  and  that  it  was  better  to  endure  some  things  than  to  hazard 
others. 

A  reconciliation  was  soon  effected  with  his  uncle,  who  probably 
felt  that  he  had,  in  a  moment  of  passion,  treated  his  nephew  with 
unnecessary  harshness,  and  Hutton  served  the  remaining  term  of 
his  apprenticeship  without  any  particular  event  which  need  be 
mentioned.  During  a  part  of  this  period  he  derived  much  bene- 
fit from  the  conversation  and  advice  of  an  old  gentleman  named 
Webb  who  came  to  lodge  with  his  uncle,  and  who  seems  to  have 
taken  a  fancy  to  "the  young  fellow.  In  his  moments  of  leisure  Hut- 
ton  practiced  music  on  an  old  harp  which  he  had  purchased  for 
half  a  crown,  and  was  so  successful  that  he  resolved  to  make  a 
dulcimer,  and  borrowed  one  as  a  pattern.  He  was  without  timber 
or  tools,  or  money  to  procure  them ;  but,  in  spite  of  these  trifling 
obstacles,  succeeded.  By  pulling  to  pieces  a  large  family  trunk, 
converting  the  hammer-key  and  plyers  of  the  stocking-frame  into 
a  hammer  and  pincers,  using  his  pocket-knife  as  an  edge-tool,  and 
making  the  remaining  prong  of  a  broken  fork  serve  as  a  sprig-awl 
and  gimlet,  he  obtained  all  that  was  necessary  for  his  purpose. 
The  instrument  he  turned  out  was  of  such  a  superb  kind  that  an 
enthusiastic  baker's  boy  purchased  it  for  the  sum  of  sixteen  shil- 
lings, with  which  Hutton  bought  a  coat.  The  career  of  the  dul- 
cimer, however,  was  brought  to  an  untimely  end.  Somehow  or 
other  the  baker's  apprentice  could  not  induce  it  to  discourse 
"excellent"  or  any  other  music,  and  one  day  was  so  enraged 
with  what  he  considered  the  mere  obstinacy  of  the  instrument 
that  he  put  it  to  an  ignominious  death  by  consuming  it  in  his 
oven — a  professional  revenge  which  must  have  been  grateful  to 
his  feelings. 

At  Christmas,  1744,  the  term  of  Hutton' s  apprenticeship  expired. 
He  had  now  served  two  terms  of  seven  years  each  to  two  trades, 


WILLIAM  BUTTON.  293 

upon  neither  of  which,  as  he  remarks,  could  he  exist.  He  con- 
tinued to  work  as  a  journeyman  for  his  uncle,  but  the  business 
did  not  interest  him.  He  began  to  have  an  inclination  for  books, 
and  to  the  extent  of  his  scanty  means  purchased  old  volumes,  the 
binding  of  which  he  repaired  with  much  ingenuity,  and  the  con- 
tents of  which  he  devoured  with  eagerness.  In  his  binding  experi- 
ments he  was  encouraged  by  the  bookseller  from  whom  he  bought 
his  books,  and  his  success  in  this  business  was  the  first  step  on 
the  ladder  of  fortune.  Before  this  was  accomplished,  he  suffered, 
in  common  with  thousands  of  others,  severe  privations.  On  one 
occasion,  the  products  of  the  stocking-frame  were  at  such  a  low 
ebb  that  he  had  to  travel  as  far  as  Leicester  to  sell  half  a  dozen 
pair  of  hose,  and  could  find  neither  a  purchaser  nor  an  employer. 
As  he  stood  before  a  gentleman  to  whom  he  offered  his  goods,  he 
burst  into  tears  to  think  that  he  should  have  served  seven  years 
to  a  trade  at  which  he  could  not  get  bread. 

In  1746  Hutton  lost  his  uncle,  who  died  from  the  bursting  of  a 
blood-vessel.  His  sister  Catharine  then  took  a  house,  and  Hutton 
went  to  board  with  her.  With  her  assistance,  he  added  the  busi- 
ness of  book-binding  to  the  rattling  of  the  stocking-frame.  The 
novelty  of  the  combination  secured  him  many  customers,  princi- 
pally among  those  who  were  not  particularly  qualified  to  judge 
of  the  excellence  of  his  work.  He  went  on  improving,  however, 
and  in  a  little  time  found  that  he  needed  better  tools,  especially 
for  lettering.  He  wished  also  to  open  an  account  with  some 
wholesale  London  house,  so  that  he  might  in  future  purchase  all 
his  materials  to  the  best  advantage.  His  sister  came  to  his  assist- 
ance, and  advanced  a  sum  of  fifteen  or  twenty  dollars,  with  which 
the  young  enthusiast  took  his  departure  for  the  metropolis.  He 
has  left  us  a  full  account  of  this  journey.  The  first  day  he  walked 
fifty-one  miles  (he  was,  of  course,  too  poor  to  ride),  and,  being  un- 
used to  so  much  exercise,  got  his  feet  badly  blistered ;  but  he  did 
not  lose  courage  or  time,  and  reached  London  on  the  third  day. 
He  put  up  at  a  tavern,  and  ordered,a  luxurious  supper,  consisting 
of  a  mutton-chop  and  a  pint  of  porter ;  but,  notwithstanding  the 
expensiveness  of  the  banquet,  he  was  unable  to  touch  it.  Fatigue 
had  deprived  him  of  his  appetite.  He  did  not  make  another  ex- 
periment of  the  same  kind,  but  breakfasted  the  next  morning  at  a 
wheelbarrow-stand  in  Smithfield.  During  the  remainder  of  his 
stay  his  mode  of  living  was  economical.  Sometimes  he  had  a 


294  SELF-MADE  MEN, 

halfpenny  worth  of  soup  and  another  of  bread ;  at  other  times, 
bread  and  cheese. 

Having  transacted  all  his  business  satisfactorily,  he  tramped 
back  to  Nottingham.  Where  to  fix  his  residence  with  the  best 
prospect  of  obtaining  trade  was  now  the  question  which  engaged 
his  attention.  His  choice  fell  upon  Southwell,  fourteen  miles  off, 
which  he  afterward  described  as  "  a  town  despicable  as  the  road 
to  it."  Here  he  took  a  shop  (1749),  at  the  rent  of  twenty  shillings 
a  year,  intending  merely  to  keep  it  open  on  the  market-days.  His 
stock  of  books  was  slim,  but  it  was  the  best  in  the  place,  and  per- 
haps too  good.  During  a  very  rainy  winter,  he  set  out  at  five  every 
Saturday  morning,  carried  a  burden  of  from  three  pounds'  weight 
to  thirty,  opened'store  at  ten,  starved  in  it  all  day  upon  bread, 
cheese,  and  ale,  took  from  one  to  six  shillings,  shut  up  at  four, 
and,  by  trudging  through  the  solitary  night  and  the  deep  roads 
for  five  hours  more,  arrived  at  Nottingham  by  nine,  where  he 
always  found  a  mess  of  milk  porridge  by  the  fire,  prepared  by  his 
kind  sister. 

By  perseverance  and  frugality,  his  circumstances  became  so 
much  better  that  in  the  following  year  he  determined  on  remov- 
ing to  Birmingham,  for  which  town,  ever  since  his  runaway  visit, 
he  had  felt  a  strong  predilection.  In  February,  1750,  he  jour- 
neyed thither,  in  order  to  see  what  opportunities  were  open  to 
enterprise.  He  found  that  there  were  only  three  considerable 
booksellers  in  the  place,  and  determined  at  once  that  he  would 
take  his  humble  chance  to  obtain  a  share  of  public  patronage. 
On  his  journey  home  he  met  with  an  adventure,  which  we  will 
recount  in  his  own  words.  "Meaning  to  take  Swithland  on  my 
return  to  Nottingham,  to  visit  my  two  aunts,  I  was  directed 
through  Tamworth,  where  I  spent  one  penny;  then  through  a 
few  villages,  with  blind  roads,  to  Charnwood  Forest,  over  which 
were  five  miles  of  uncultivated  waste,  without  any  road.  To  all 
this  I  was  a,  stranger.  Passing  through  a  village  in  the  dusk  of 
the  evening,  I  determined  to  atop  at  the  next  public  house ;  but, 
to  my  surprise,  I  instantly  found  myself  upon  the  forest.  It  began 
to  rain ;  it  was  dark ;  I  was  in  no  road ;  nor  was  any  dwelling 
near.  I  was  among  hills,  rocks,  and  precipices,  and  so  bewildered 
that  I  could  not  retreat.  I  considered  my  situation  as  desperate, 
and  must  confess  I  lost  the  fortitude  of  a  man. 

"I  wandered  slowly,  though  in  the  rain,  for  fear  of  destruc- 


WILLIAM  HUTTON.  295 

* 
tion,  and  hallooed  with  all  my  powers,  but  met  with  no  return. 

I  was  about  two  hours  in  this  cruel  state,  when  I  thought  the  in- 
distinct form  of  a  roof  appeared  against  the  sky.  My  vocifera- 
tions continued,  but  to  no  purpose.  I  concluded  it  must  be  a 
lonely  barn  ;  but,  had  it  been  the  receptacle  of  ghosts,  it  would  have 
been  desirable.  At  length  I  heard  the  sound  of  a  man's  voice, 
which,  though  one  of  the  most  terrific,  gave  me  pleasure.  I  con- 
tinued advancing,  perhaps  thirty  yards,  using  the  soft  persuasives 
of  distress  for  admission,  even  under  any  roof,  but  could  not  pre-  . 
vail.  The  man  replied  that  all  his  out-buildings  had  been  de- 
stroyed by  a  mob  of  freeholders,  as  standing  on  the  waste.  He 
seemed  to  be  six  feet  high,  strong  built,  and,  by  the  sound  of  his 
voice,  upward  of  fifty.  % 

"  I  could  not,  as  my  life  was  at  stake,  give  up  the  contest,  but 
thought,  if  I  could  once  get  under  his  roof,  I  should  not  be  easily 
discharged.  Though  his  manner  was  repelling  as  the  rain,  and 
his  appearance  horrid  as  the  night,  yet  I  would  not  part  from 
him,  but  insensibly,  at  length,  wormed  myself  in.  I  was  now  in  a 
small  room,  dignified  with  the  name  of  a  house,  totally  dark  ex- 
cept a  glow  of  fire,  which  would  barely  have  roasted  a  potato  had 
it  been  deposited  in  the  centre.  In  this  dismal  abode  I  heard  two 
female  voices — one  that  of  an  old  aunt,  the  other  of  a  young  wife. 

"  We  all  sat  close  to  this  handful  of  a  fire,  as  every  one  must 
who  sat  in  the  room.  We  soon  became  familiarized  by  conversa- 
tion, and  I  found  my  host  agreeable.  He  apologized  for  not  hav- 
ing treated  me  with  more  civility ;  he  pitied  my  case,  but  had  not 
conveniences  for  accommodation.  Hints  were  now  given  for  re- 
tiring to  rest.  '  I  will  thank  you,'  said  I,  '  for  something  to  eat ; 
I  have  had  nothing  since  morning,  when  I  left  Birmingham.' 
'  We  should  have  asked  you  to  eat,  but  we  have  nothing  in  the 
house.'  '  I  shall  be  satisfied  with  any  thing.'  '  We  have  no  eat- 
ables whatever,  except  some  pease-porridge,  which  is  rather  thin 
— only  pease  and  water,  and  which  we  are  ashamed  to  offer.'  'It 
will  be  acceptable  to  a  hungry  man.' 

"He  gave  me  to  understand  that  he  had  buried  a  wife,  by 
whom  he  had  children  grown  up.  Being  inclined  to  marry  again, 
he  did  not  choose  to  venture  upon  a  widow,  for  fear  of  marrying 
her  debts ;  he  therefore  had  married  a  girl  thirty  years  younger 
than  himself,  by  whom  he  had  two  small  children,  then  in  bed. 
This  I  considered  as  an  excuse  for  misconduct. 


296  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

"  While  supper  was  warming — for  hot  it  could  not  be — a  light 
was  necessary ;  but,  alas  !  the  premises  afforded  no  candle.  To 
supply  the  place,  a  leaf  was  torn  from  a  shattered  book,  twisted 
round,  kindled,  and  shook  in  the  hand  to  improve  the  blaze.  By 
this  momentary  light,  I  perceived  the  aunt,  who  sat  opposite,  had 
a  hare-shorn  lip,  which,  in  the  action  of  eating,  so  affected  me 
that  I  was  obliged  to  give  up  my  supper.  By  another  lighted 
leaf  we  marched  up  to  bed.  I  could  perceive  the  whole  premises 
consisted  of  two  rooms,  house  and  chamber.  In  the  latter  was 
one  bed  and  a  pair  of  bedsteads.  The  husband,  wife,  aunt,  and 
two  children  occupied  the  first,  and  the  bedstead,  whose  head  but- 
ted against  their  bedside,  was  appropriated  for  me.  But  now  an- 
other difficulty  arose :  there  wye  no  bed-clothes  to  cover  me. 
Upon  diligent  inquiry,  nothing  could  be  procured  but  the  wife's 
petticoat,  and  I  could  learn  that  she  robbed  her  own'  bed  to  sup- 
ply mine.  I  heard  the  rain  patter  upon  the  thatch  during  the 
night,  and  rejoiced  it  did  not  patter  upon  me. 

"  By  the  light  of  the  next  morning  I  had  a  view  of  all  the  fam- 
ily faces  except  the  aunt's,  which  was  covered  with  a  slouched 
hat.  The  husband  seemed  to  have  been  formed  in  one  of  nature's 
largest  and  coarsest  moulds.  His  hands  retained  the  accumu- 
lated filth  of  the  last  three  months,  garnished  with  half  a  dozen 
scabs,  both  perhaps  the  result  of  idleness.  The  wife  was  young, 
handsome,  ragged,  and  good-natured. 

"  The  whole  household,  I  apprehend,  could  have  cast  a  willing 
eye  upon  breakfast,  but  there  seemed  a  small  embarrassment  in 
the  expectants.  The  wife,  however,  went  to  her  next  neighbor's, 
about  a  mile,  and  in  an  hour  returned  with  a  jug  of  skimmed  milk 
and  a  piece  of  a  loaf,  perhaps  two  pounds,  both  of  which  I  have 
reason  to  believe  were  begged ;  for  money,  I  believe,  was  as  scarce 
as  candles.  Having  no  fire,  we  ate  it  cold,  and  with  a  relish. 

"When  I  left  the  house,  I  saw  the  devastation  made  by  the  ri- 
oters, a  horde  of  monsters  I  have  since  had  reason  to  dread.  My 
host  went  with  me  half  a  mile  to  bring  me  into  something  like  a 
track,  when  I  gave  him  a  shake  of  the  hand,  a  sixpence,  and  my 
sincere  good  wishes.  We  parted  upon  the  most  friendly  terms. 
Though  I  seemingly  received  but  little,  yet  a  fayor  is  great  or 
small  according  to  the  need  of  the  receiver.  I  had  seen  poverty 
in  various  shapes,  but  this  was  the  most  complete.  There  appear- 
ed, however,  in  that  lowest  degree,  a  considerable  share  of  con- 


WILLIAM  BUTTON.  297 

tent.  The  man  might  have  married  a  widow  and  her  debts  with 
safety,  for  no  creditor  durst  have  sued  him.  Neither  need  he 
have  dreaded  a  jail,  except  from  the  loss  of  liberty,  for  he  would 
have  risen  in  point  of  luxury.  I  have  also  seen  various  degrees 
of  idleness,  but  none  surpassed  this.  Those  wants  can  not  merit 
pity  which  idleness  might,  but  will  not  prevent." 

In  April  Hutton  commenced  business  in  Birmingham,  having 
rented  hah0  of  a  small  store  for  the  sum  of  one  shilling  per  week. 
A  stroke  of  luck  placed  him  in  possession  of  about  two  hundred 
weight  of  books,  the  refuse  of  a  clergyman's  library.  This  gen- 
tleman was  benevolent  and  kind-hearted.  He  saw  that  Hutton 
was  struggling  with  the  world  in  an  honorable  way,  and  assisted 
him  by  letting  him  have  the  books  at  a  nominal  price,  taking  his 
note  of  hand  as  security  even  for  this.  The  document  was  a  cu- 
rious one,  and  read  as  follows :  "I  promise  to  pay  to  Ambrose 
Rudsdall  one  pound  seven  shillings  when  I  am  able. — WILLIAM 
HUTTON."  His  business  prospects  at  first  were  of  a -very  dismal 
kind,  and,  although  naturally  of  a  cheerful  temper,  he  could  not 
help  being  depressed  by  them  ;  but  he  never  lost  courage  or  neg- 
lected an  opportunity.  As  the  year  progressed,  his  spirits  rose ; 
he  became  known  as  a  steady,  persevering  young  man,  and  people 
liked  to  patronize  him.  At  its  close  he  had  saved  about  twenty 
pounds,  the  result  of  great  industry  and  frugality.  The  follow- 
ing year  some  of  his  friends  induced  him  to  take  a  house  in  a  bet- 
ter location.  Hutton  was  at  first  frightened  at  the  rent,  which 
amounted  to  the  dreadful  sum  of  eight  pounds,  but  was  finally 
persuaded.  The  speculation  turned  out  an  advantageous  one; 
his  customers  were  more  numerous  and  of  a  better  class  ;  so  that, 
in  the  third  year  of  his  residence,  he  was  able'  to  boast  that  he  had 
a  smiling  trade,  to  which  he  closely  attended,  and  a  happy  set  of 
acquaintances,  whose  society  gave  him  pleasure.  Under  these 
circumstances,  it  was  not  remarkable  that  Hutton  began  to  aspire 
to  the  comforts  of  a  domestic-  circle  of  his  own.  He  had  made 
several  attempts  at  housekeeping,  but  they  all  failed,  owing  to 
the  indifference  of  domestics.  Men's  eyes  get  opened  in  this  way, 
and  it  is  astonishing  how  sharp  they  can  look  out  for  a  wife. 
His  first  "courtings"  were  not  eminently  successful ;  but  after  a 
while  a  neighbor  sent  for  one  of  his  nieces,  Miss  Susan  Cock,  a 
pretty  and  amiable  woman.  At  the  outset  she  did  not  seem  to 
like  Hutton,  nor  was  he  attracted  by  her.  In  process  of  time, 

N  2 


•298  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

however,  the  coldness  in  both  disappeared,  and  "  by  Christmas," 
he  says,  "  our  hearts  had  united  without  efforts  on  either  side. 
Time  had  given  numberless  opportunities  of  observing  each  oth- 
er's actions,  and  trying  the  tenor  of  conduct  by  the  touchstone  of 
prudence.  Courtship  is  often  a  disguise.  We  had  seen  each  oth- 
er when  disguise  was  useless."  Forty-one  years  later  he  wrote 
as  follows :  "  Three  months  before  her  death,  when  she  was  so 
afflicted  with  an  asthma  that  she  could  neither  walk,  stand,  sit, 
nor  lie,  but  while  on  a  chair,  I  was  obliged  to  support  her  head, 
I  told  her  that  she  had  never  approached  me  without  diffusing  a 
ray  of  pleasure  over  the  mind,  except  whenever  any  little  disa- 
greement had  happened  between  us.  She  replied,  'I  can  say  more 
than  that.  You  never  appeared  in  my  sight,  even  in  anger,  with- 
out the  sight  giving  me  pleasure.'  I  received  the  dear  remark, 
as  I  now  write  it,  with  tears." 

Having  saved  two  hundred  pounds,  he  embarked  in  the  paper 
trade  (in  connection  with  his  own  business),  and,  being  the  only 
one  in  the  town,  he  found  it  extremely  lucrative.  He  followed 
it  for  forty  years,  and,  according  to  his  own  admission,  acquired 
an  ample  fortune.  This  he  risked  in  the  manufacture  of  the  ar- 
ticle ;  but  the  knavery  of  those  around  him  occasioned  him  much 
loss,  and  the  enterprise  was  abandoned.  Prosperity  continued  to 
crown  his  efforts ;  he  became  richer  and  richer  every  day.  Al- 
though strictly  exact  and  economical,  he  was  not  in  the  slightest 
degree  niggardly.  He  denied  neither  to  himself  or  his  family  any 
comfort  or  amusement  which  they  could  enjoy  without  injury  to 
their  future  welfare. 

Being  a  man  of  influence  in  the  community,  he  was,  of  course, 
selected  for  parochial  and  civic  honors,  and,  like  most  honest  men 
who  undertake  public  offices  for  the  first  time,  endeavored  to  bring 
about  many  reforms.  These  labors  were  not  fruitful,  and  at 
length  he  retired  from  the  contest  in  disgust,  finding  that  it  was 
impossible  to  stem  the  torrent  of  corruption.  Previous  to  this  he 
had  frequently  amused  himself  with  writing  verses,  which  occa- 
sionally found  their  way  into  the  magazines ;  but  it  was  not  till 
1780,  when  he  was  in  his  fifty-seventh  year,  that  he  thought  of 
regularly  appearing  before  the  public  in  the  character  of  an  author. 
His  first  prose  attempt  was  a  History  of  Birmingham.  It  came 
out  in  1782,  was  received  favorably,  and  gained  for  the  author  the 
honor  of  being  elected  a  member  of  the  Scottish  Antiquarian  So- 
ciety. Encouraged  by  success,  Hutton  continued  his  literary  ca- 


WILLIAM  HUTTON.  299 

reer,  and  between  1782  and  1808  produced  thirteen  other  works, 
which  issued  from  the  press  in  the  following  order:  Journey  to 
London,  1784  ;  The  Court  of  Requests,  1787  ;  The  Hundred 
Court,  1788 ;  History  of  Blackpool,  1788 ;  Battle  of  Bosworth 
Field,  1789  ;  History  of  Derby,  1790  ;  The  Barbers,  a  poem, 
1793 ;  Edgar  and  Elfrida,  a  poem,  1793 ;  The  Roman  Wall, 
1801 ;  Remarks  upon  North  Wales,  1801 ;  Tour  to  Scarborough, 
1803  ;  Poems,  chiefly  tales,  1804 ;  Trip  to  Coatham,  1808  ;  and 
his  "Life,"  a  posthumous  work,  and  the  most  excellent  of  all  his 
productions.  Many  of  his  topographical  and  antiquarian  works 
are  remarkable  for  their  exactness  and  research.  They  all  dis- 
play considerable  ability  in  the  writer,  and  a  pleasant  vein  of  orig- 
inal geniality.  His  poetical  productions  were  principally  remark- 
able for  their  kindly  feeling ;  in  other  respects  they  are  worthless. 
The  prosperous  condition  in  which  he  found  himself  enabled 
him  to  pursue  his  career  as  an  author  with  attention  and  ease. 
His  fortune  progressed  steadily.  He  possessed  a  country  house 
of  his  own  building,  kept  horses,  and  finally  set  up  a  carriage, 
and  solaced  himself  and  family  with  visits  to  all  places  of  inter- 
est. He  possessed  the  happy  faculty  of  enjoying  to  the  full  what 
he  had  earned,  without  launching  into  unnecessary  extravagance. 
In  1791,  however,  a  political  storm  arose,  which  for  a  time  put 
an  end  to  his  tranquillity.  It  involved  a  general  proscription  of 
the  Dissenters,  to  which  sect  Hutton  belonged,  and  led  to  a  series 
of  mischievous  and  disgraceful  riots.  Mobs,  of  what  kind  soever, 
dislike  rich  men,  and  Hutton  at  once  became  an  object  of  aver- 
sion, not  only  because  he  was  rich,  but  because  he  was  a  Dissenter, 
and,  as  a  commissioner  of  the  Court  of  Requests,  had  been  com- 
pelled to  decide  against  many  of  the  creatures  who  were  now  eag- 
er for  his  destruction.  The  result  was  as  might  be  expected. 
They  attacked  his  house,  threw  his  furniture  and  extensive  stock 
into  the  street,  reduced  the  house  to  a  mere  skeleton,  and  made 
several  attempts  to  set  it  on  fire,  which  were  fortunately  frus- 
trated. On  the  following  day  they  went  to  his  country  house  at 
Bennett's  Hill,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  town,  made  three  bonfires 
of  the  furniture,  and  then  gave  the  building  to  the  flames.  Hut- 
ton  was  not  a  man  to  quietly  submit  to  injustice.  He  made  an 
effort  to  resist  the  depredations  of  the  mob ;  but  such  was  the 
consternation  that  prevailed  among  the  respectable  portion  of  the 
community  that  not  a  man  could  be  got  to  stir  in  the  matter.  As 
his  life  was  now  more  than  ever  in  danger,  he  was  prevailed  upon 


300  SELF  MADE  MEN. 

to  retire  into  the  country  for  a  time.  He  took  lodgings  at  Sut- 
ton  Coldfield ;  but  in  the  evening  his  landlady  was  seized  with  a 
panic,  and  begged  him  to  quit,  that  her  abode  might  not  be  de- 
stroyed. He  was  compelled  to  proceed  with  his  family  to  Tam- 
worth,  where  they  slept  for  the  night,  and  then  moved  to  Castk- 
Bromwich,  in  order  to  be  nearer  Birmingham  in  case  of  danger. 
But  even  here  he  was  pursued  by  the  apprehensions  of  those 
around  him.  At  night,  some  of  the  rioters  having  visited  Castle 
Bromwich,  the  villagers  were  terrified,  and  advised  him,  for  his 
safety's  sake,  to  retreat  to  Stonnel.  "I  was  avoided,"  he  says, 
"  as  a  pestilence.  The  waves  of  sorrow  rolled  over  me,  and  beat 
me  down  with  multiplied  force  ;  every  one  came  heavier  than  the 
last.  My  children  were  distressed  ;  my  wife,  through  long  afflic- 
tion, was  ready  to  quit  my  own  arms  for  those  of  death,  and  I 
myself  reduced  to  the  sad  necessity  of  humbly  begging  a  draught 
of  water  at  a  cottage  !  What  a  reverse  of  situation  !  How  thin 
the  barriers  between  affluence  and  poverty!  By  the  smiles  of  the 
inhabitants  of  Birmingham  I  acquired  a  fortune  ;  by  an  astonish- 
ing defect  in  our  police,  I  lost  it.  In  the,,  morning  of  the  15th  I 
was  a  rich  man  ;  in  the  evening  I  was  ruined.  At  ten  at  night, 
on  the  17th,  I  might  have  been  found  leaning  upon  a  milestone 
upon  Sutton  Coldfield  road,  without  food,  without  a  home,  with- 
out money,  and,  what  is  the  last  resort  of  the  wretched,  without 
hope."  Shortly  after  this  the  military  were  called  out,  and  the 
disturbances  came  to  an  end.  On  his  return  to  Birmingham  he 
was  warmly  welcomed  by  his  friends,  among  whom  were  sixteen 
members  of  the  Established  Church,  who  placed  their  houses  at 
his  disposal ;  a  mark  of  consideration  which  he  esteemed  as  a 
proof  that  he  was  not  looked  on  as  a  party  man.  But  the  per- 
secution of  the  Dissenters  did  not  end  with  their  temporary  safe- 
ty. The  leaders  of  the  mob  were  put  on  trial ;  but  they  were 
speedily  released,  and  became  more  rampant  than  ever.  Such 
was  the  prejudice  which  prevailed,  that  Hutton  was  actually  un- 
able to  obtain  a  home  for  himself  and  family,  and  was  obliged  to 
board  and  lodge  at  a  tavern.  He  commenced  a  suit  for  damages 
sustained  in  the  riot,  and,  after  much  vexatious  litigation  and  ex- 
pense, obtained  a  verdict  for  about  one  third  of  the  actual  loss 
sustained.  His  expenses  in  the  suit  were  nearly  nine  hundred 
pounds.  Disgusted  with  this  unfair  treatment,  he  determined  to 
retire  from  business  (1793),  and  immediately  resigned  in  favor  of 
his  son,  amusing  himself  occasionally  by  assisting  gratuitously  in 


WILLIAM  HUTTON.  301 

the  management.  The  increasing  infirmities  of  his  wife  .also  de- 
manded more  of  his  attention.  He  has  left  us  a  very  touching 
memorandum  of  the  way  he  passed  his  time.  "  My  practice," 
says  he,  "  had  long  been  to  rise  about  five,  and  relieve  the  nurse 
of  the  night  by  holding  the  head  of  my  dear  love  in  my  hand, 
with  the  elbow  resting  on  the  knee.  At  eight  I  walked  to  busi- 
ness at  Birmingham,  where  I  staid  till  four,  when  I  returned.  I 
nursed  her  till  eight,  amused  myself  with  literary  pursuits  till  ten, 
and  then  went  to  rest."  Early  in  1796  Mrs.  Hutton  was  re- 
leased from  her  sufferings.  Hutton  was  severely  affected  by  the 
event,  and  to  the  day  of  his  death  cherished  the  warmest  venera- 
tion for  his  unfortunate  partner. 

In  his  seventy-eighth  year  Hutton  achieved  a  remarkable  feat 
of  pedestrianism.  He  had  long  had  a  desire  to  examine  the  old 
Roman  Wall,  which  was  erected  to  keep  off  the  savage  barbarians 
of  the  north,  and  portions  of  which  still  remain.  His  daughter 
was  going  on  a  tour,  and  he  determined  to  accompany  her  as 
far  as  Penrith,  and  then  explore  the  Wall,  while  she  went  on  to 
the  Lakes.  She  was  to  ride ;  but  nothing  could  dissuade  him 
from  making  all  the  journey  on  foot.  From  Penrith  he  pushed 
on,  through*  Carlisle,  to  the  Irish  Sea,  followed  the  line  of  Avail 
to  Wall's  End,  on  the  North  Sea,  and  retraced  it  again  to  Car- 
lisle, having  twice  crossed  the  kingdom  in  one  week.  The  jour- 
ney from  and  to  Birmingham  was  six  hundred  and  one  miles, 
occupied  thirty-five  days,  and  was  made  under  a  burning  July 
sun,  when  the  ground  was  not  cooled  by  a  single  drop  of  rain. 
He  was  so  delighted  with  the  journey,  and  performed  it  with  such 
ease,  that  in  the  course  of  the  following  year  he  made  excur- 
sions to  the  counties  of  Derby,  Leicester,  and  Northampton ;  ex- 
plored the  beauties  of  Matlock,  and  wandered  among  the  ruins  of 
Fotheringay  Castle.  He  describes  the  scenes  and  adventures  of 
this  trip  with  his  usual  pleasantness  and  geniality.  The  greatest 
wonder  he  met  at  Matlock,  he  says,  was  Phebe  Brown.  She  was 
six  feet  six  inches  in  height,  thirty  years  of  age,  well  proportion- 
ed, round-faced,  and  ruddy.  "  Her  step  is  more  manly  than  a 
man's,  and  can  cover  forty  miles  a  day.  Her  common  dress  is  a 
man's  hat,  coat,  with  a  spencer  over  it,  and  men's  shoes.  As  she 
is  wnmarried,  I  believe  she  is  a  stranger  to  the  breeches.  She  can 
lift  one  hundred  weight  in  each  hand,  and  carry  fourteen  score ; 
can  sew,  knit,  cook,  and  spin,  but  hates  them  all,  and  every  ac- 
companiment to  the  female  character,  that  of  modesty  excepted. 


302  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

A  gentleman,  at  the  New  Bath,  had  recently  treated  her  rudely. 
'She  had  a  good  mind  to  have  knocked  him  down.'  She  assured 
me  '  she  never  knew  what  fear  was.'  She  gives  no  affront,  but 
offers  to  fight  any  man  who  gives  her  one.  If  she  never  has 
fought,  it  is,  perhaps,  owing  to  the  insulter  having  been  a  coward, 
for  the  man  of  courage  would  disdain  to  offer  an  insult  to  a  fe- 
male. Phebe  has  strong  sense,  an  excellent  judgment,  says  smart 
things,  and  supports  an  easy  freedom  in  all  companies.  Her 
voice  is  more  than  masculine — it  is  deep-toned.  With  the  wind 
in  her  favor,  she  can  send  it  a  mile.  She  has  neither  beard  nor 
prominence  of  breast.  She  undertakes  any  kind  of  manual  labor, 
as  holding  the  plow,  driving  a  team,  thatching  the  barn,  using  the 
flail,  etc. ;  but  her  chief  avocation  is  breaking  horses,  for  which 
she  charges  a  guinea  a  week  each.  She  always  rides  without  a 
saddle,  is  thought  to-be  the  best  judge  of  a  horse  or  cow  in  the 
country,  and  is  frequently  employed  to  purchase  for  others  at  the 
neighboring  fairs.  She  is  fond  of  Milton,  Pope,  and  Shakspeare ; 
also  of  music ;  is  self-taught,  and  performs  on  several  instru- 
ments, as  the  flute,  violin,  harpsichord,  and  supports  the  bass-viol 
in  Matlock  church.  She  is  a  marks-wwnaw,  and  carries  the  gun 
on  her  shoulder.  She  eats  no  beef  and  pork,  and  but  little  mut- 
ton. Her  chief  food  is  milk,  which  is  also  her  drink,  discarding 
wine,  ale,  and  spirits." 

For  several  years  Hutton  preserved  the  vigor  of  his  mind  and 
body.  He  was  always  employed,  and  never  allowed  either  the 
one  or  the  other  to  get  rusty.  At  the  age  of  eighty-four  he  un- 
derwent an  operation  for  cancer ;  the  wound  healed  up  with  ra- 
pidity, and  a  cure  was  effected.  On  his  ninetieth  birthday  he 
walked  ten  miles,  and  to  the  last  maintained  his  habit  of  pedes- 
trianism.  On  the  20th  of  September,  1815,  he  sank  into  his  last 
sleep  without  a  struggle  or  a  groan.  A  more  perfect  and  esti- 
mable character  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  annals  of  biography. 

Button's  daughter  described  her  father  as  a  man  of  five  feet 
six  inches  high,  well  made,  strong,  and  active  ;  a  little  inclined  to 
corpulency,  which  did  not  diminish  till  within  four  or  five  months 
of  his  death.  From  this  period  he  gradually  became  thin.  His 
countenance  was  expressive  of  sense,  resolution,  and  calmness, 
though,  when  irritated  or  animated,  he  had  a  very  keen  eye. 
Such  was  the  happy  disposition  of  his  mind,  and  such  the  firm 
texture  of  his  body,  that  ninety-two  years  had  scarcely  the  power 
to  alter  his  features  or  make  a  wrinkle  in  his  face. 


JOHN    PAUL   JONES. 

JOHN  PAUL  JONES,  more  familiarly  known  as  Paul  Jones,  a 
Scotchman  by  birth,  was  born  on  the  6th  of  July,  1747,  at  a 
little  place  called  Kirkbean.  His  father  was  a  gardener,  and 
Paul  followed  the  same  .calling  for  a  few  early  years  of  his  life. 
It  may  be  well  in  this  place  to  mention  that  his  proper  name 
was  simply  John  Paul.  Events  which  will  be  narrated  hereafter 
caused  him  to  assume  the  name  of  Jones,  by  which  he  is  so  widely 
known.  Being  of  an  adventurous  and  sanguine  disposition,  he 
was  not  long  content  with  the  humble  sphere  in  which  Nature 
had  cast  him.  The  sea  was  his  escape.  At  the  age  of  twelve  he 
crossed  the  Frith  to  Whitehaven,  and  entered  into  articles  of  ap- 
prenticeship with  Mr.  Younger,'  a  merchant  in  the  American  trade. 
Soon  after,  he  made  his  first  voyage  in  the  Friendship,  of  White- 
haven,  bound  to  the  Kappahannock.  He  was  a  very  studious  and 
valuable  apprentice,  and  the  excellent  qualities  he  manifested  rec- 
ommended him  strongly  to  the  house  by  whom  he  was  engaged. 
All  his  spare  time  was  devoted  to  the  study  of  the  profession  he 
had  selected,  and  the  general  cultivation  of  his  mind.  Before  the 


304  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

term  of  apprenticeship  had  expired,  the  house  failed,  and  in  a  very 
generous  way  surrendered  his  indentures,  instead  of  assigning  or 
transferring  them  to  some  one  else.  Paul,  thrown  on  his  own 
resources,  looked  around  for  employment,  and  in  a  little  while 
succeeded  in  getting  an  appointment  as  third  mate  of  a  vessel 
bound  on  a  slaving  voyage.  In  this  service  he -subsequently  rose 
to  the  rank  of  chief  mate ;  but,  feeling  disgust  for  the  cruelties 
which  it  is  feared  are  inevitable  in  the  traffic,  he  relinquished  it. 
In  1768,  when  returning  from  Jamaica  to  Scotland  as  a  passen- 
ger, the  master  and  mate  of  the  brig  were  seized  with  sickness, 
and  died  of  fever.  In  this  extremity  Paul  assumed  the  command, 
and  under  his  charge  the  vessel  arrived  safely  in  port.  In  return 
for  this,  the  owners  placed  him  on  board  the  same  vessel  as  mas- 
ter and  supercargo  for  the  next  voyage  to  the  West  Indies.  The 
voyage  was  successfully  prosecuted,  and  the  brig  John  (that  was 
her  name)  started  on  a  second  voyage  to  the  same  regions.  On 
the  passage  a  difficulty  arose  between  Paul  and  the  carpenter  of 
the  ship,  Mungo  Maxwell  by  name,  which  resulted  in  the  latter 
being  tied  up  and  flogged  in  the  usual  brutal  style  of  the  navy. 
The  punishment  was  undoubtedly  called  for,  but  it  was  an  unfor- 
tunate necessity.  Maxwell  left  the  ship,  and  soon  after  was  seized 
with  a  fever,  of  which  he  died.  There  is  no  doubt  now  that  the 
man  owed  his  death  entirely  to  the  action  of  malignant  disease, 
but  at  the  time  it  was  broadly  asserted  that  the  flogging  had  caused 
it,  and  in  Scotland  especially  this  cruel  rumor  was  believed  to  the 
prejudice  of  Paul.  The  owners  of  the  brig,  however,  gave  him  an 
honorable  discharge  when  they  dissolved  partnership ;  but,  in  spite 
of  this,  it  is  probable  that  he  experienced  difficulty  in  getting  a  new 
ship. 

In  1773  he  went  to  Virginia,  to  arrange  the  affairs  of  a  brother 
who  had  died  there  intestate  and  without  children.  He  became 
possessed  of. the  estate  of  this  brother,  and  at  once  entered  on  the 
career  of  an  agriculturist ;  but,  from  incumbrances  on  the  farm 
or  other  causes,  he  found  it  extremely  difficult  to_gain  a  living, 
and  when  the  war  of  the  Revolution  broke  out,  was,  according  to 
his  own  account,  in  great  penury.  Although  he  had  only  resided 
hi  the  country  for  two  years,  he  espoused  its  cause  from  the  first, 
and  tendered  his  services  to  the  government.  On  the  22d  of  De- 
cember, 1775,  he  received  a  commission  as  lieutenant  in  the  navy, 
and  in  this  document  his  name  first  occurs  as  John  Paul  Jones. 


JOHN  PAUL  JONES.  305 

Why  he  added  the  last  name  to  his  patronymic  we  can  only  sur- 
mise ;  he  gives  no  reason  himself.  It  is  probable  that  he  wished 
to  efface  some  of  the  events  of  his  early  life  for  which  he  had  be- 
come notorious,  such,  for  instance,  as  the  death  of  the  carpenter, 
and  a  brief  career  on  the  Scottish  coast  as  a  smuggler.  He  might 
have  felt  that  it  was  necessary  for  the  preservation  of  discipline 
in  any  position  he  might  acquire  that  these  circumstances  should 
be  forgotten. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  voyage  Paul  Jones  was  promoted  to  the 
command  of  the  Alfred,  but  was  afterward  superseded  on  the  14th 
of  January,  1777 — probably  on  account  of  his  being  a  foreigner. 
The  Marine  Committee,  however,  expressed  regret  that  they  had 
not  a  good  ship  vacant  for  him,  and  Congress  expressed  its  satis- 
faction with  his  first  cruise  (in  which  he  took  several  prizes,  and 
inflicted  serious  injury  on  the  enemy)  by  giving  him,  a  few  months 
later,  the  command  of  a  new  ship  called  the  Ranger.  On  the  1st 
of  November,  1777,  he  sailed  from  Portsmouth,  bound  for  Nantes, 
in  France.  On  the  passage  he  made  two  prizes,  in  spite  of  a  fleet 
of  ten  sail  which  gave  him  chase.  He  succeeded  also  in  getting 
the  American  flag  (which  he  was  the  first  to  hoist  on  an  American 
ship)  properly  saluted  by  a  foreign  power.  We  copy  his  own  ac- 
cotrht  of  this  event.  "  I  am  happy  in  having  it  in  my  power  to 
congratulate  you  .on  my  having  seen  the  American  flag  for  the 
first  time  recognized  in  the  fullest  and  completest  manner  by  the 
flag  of  France.  I  was  off  their  bay  on  the  13th  instant,  and  sent 
my  boat  in  the  next  day  to  know  if  the  admiral  would  return  my 
salute.  He  answered  that  he  would  return  to  me,  as  the  senior 
American  Continental  officer  in  Europe,  the  same  salute  which  he 
was  authorized  by  his  court  to  return  to  an  admiral  of  Holland, 
or  any  other  republic,  which  was  four  guns  less  than  the  salute 
given.  I  hesitated  at  this,  for  I  had  demanded  gun  for  gun; 
therefore  I  anchored  in  the  entrance  of  the  bay,  at  a  distance 
from  the  French  fleet ;  but,  after  a  very  particular  inquiry  on  the 
14th,  finding  that  he  had  really  told  the  truth,  I  was  induced  to 
accept  of  his  offer,  the  more  so  as  it  was,  in  fact,  an  acknowledg- 
ment of  American  independence.  The  wind  being  contrary  and 
blowing  hard,  it  was  after  sunset  before  the  Ranger  got  near  enough 
to  salute  La  Motte  Piquet  with  thirteen  guns,  which  he  returned 
with  nine.  However,  to  put  the  matter  beyond  a  doubt,  I  did  not 
suffer  the  Independence  (a  vessel  of  Jones's  squadron)  to  salute  till 


306  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

next  morning,  when  I  sent  the  admiral  word  that  I  would  sail 
through  his  fleet  in  the  brig,  and  would  salute  him  in  open  day. 
He  was  accordingly  pleased,  and  returned  the  compliment  also 
with  nine  guns." 

Paul  Jones  sailed  from  Nantes  for  the  Irish  and  Scotch  coasts. 
The  course  he  had  laid  down  for  himself,  and  which  proved  so 
eminently  successful,  was  to  make  sudden  descents  on  unexpected 
spots,  and,  by  striking  a  rapid  succession  of  small  blows,  in  this 
way  to  stupefy  and  confuse  the  enemy.  One  of  the  first  places 
to  which  he  paid  some  attention  was  the  port  of  Whitehaven, 
where,  it  will  be  remembered,  he  had  commenced  his  maritime 
career.  It  was  his  intention  to  set  fire  to  all  the  shipping,  and 
for  this  purpose  he  made  a  bold  attempt  with  two  boats  and  thirty- 
one  men.  He  only  succeeded  in  setting  fire  to  one  ship  and  in 
spiking  a  few  guns.  There  was  no  fighting  on  either  side.  Jones's 
next  attempt  was  to  seize  the  person  of  the  Earl  of  Stirling  (in 
whose  family  he  once  lived),  imagining  that  the  possession  of  this 
nobleman's  person  might  be  useful  when  exchanges  were  made 
between  the  two  countries.  The  earl  being  absent  from  home, 
he  did  not  succeed  in  his  base  scheme ;  his  men,  however,  plunder- 
ed the  house,  Paul  waiting  outside,  like  an  experienced  burglar, 
while  his  men  performed  the  dirty  work.  He  became  properly 
ashamed  of  this  transaction,  and,  to  his  credit  be  it  said,  returned 
the  plunder. 

These  incursions  alarmed  the  enemy,  and  a  ship  of  war  called 
the  Drake  was  sent  in  pursuit  of  Jones.  A  regular  engagement 
took  place  between  them,  and  was  kept  up  obstinately  at  close 
quarters  for  more  than  an  hour.  At  length  the  British  vessel 
surrendered.  Her  captain  and  first  lieutenant  were  killed,  and 
no  fewer  than  forty-two  of  the  ship's  company  were  found  to  have 
been  killed  or  wounded,  while  Jones,  on  his  side,  merely  lost  one 
officer,  one  seaman,  and  six  wounded.  The  prize  was  carried  in 
safety  to  Brest,  and  the  hero  of  the  fight  became  a  great  lion. 
He  was  not  without  his  troubles,  however ;  money  was  scarce, 
and  the  men  became  dissatisfied.  Jones,  too,  was  ambitious  and 
hasty ;  he  wanted  to  get  into  a  larger  ship,  and  took  every  oppor- 
tunity of  magnifying  his  own  importance,  which  was,  of  course, 
annoying  to  other  officers.  The  lieutenant,  in  particular,  was 
indignant,  and  his  indignation  aroused  the  resentment  of  Jones, 
who  made  all  sorts  of  charges  against  him,  demanded  a  court- 


JOHN  PAUL  JONES.  307 

martial,  and  did  other  intemperate  things.  The  result  was,  that 
Jones's  ship,  the  Ranger,  was  placed  under  charge  of  Lieutenant 
Simpson,  and  ordered  back  to  America,  and  Jones  himself  was 
requested  to  remain  in  France,  to  be  in  readiness  for  some  im- 
portant operations  which  were  about  to  be  undertaken.  For  five 
months  he  remained  in  a  state  of  inactivity,  employing  his  time 
mostly  in  indefatigable  correspondence  with  every  one  who  was 
in  the  slightest  degree  likely  to  forward  his  interests.  He  was 
an  excellent  letter-writer,  clear,  forcible,  and  persuasive  ;  but 
men  in  office  are  not  easily  moved  by  letters,  even  when  they  are 
written  with  the  most  masterly  ability,  and  those  of  Jones's  were 
without  a  result.  One  day,  while  fretting  and  fuming  at  the  un- 
merited neglect  with  which  he  was  treated  by  the  French  govern- 
ment— who,  after  having  promised  to  furnish  him  with  a  vessel 
for  the  service  of  the  American  cause,  displayed  such  unwilling- 
ness to  do  so — his  eye  fell  on  one  of  Poor  Richard's  proverbs. 
It  was  in  Franklin's  famous  Pennsylvania  Almanac,  and  was  to 
this  effect :  "  If  you  would  have  your  business  done,  go ;  if  not, 
send."  It  occurred  to  him  instantly  that  if,  instead  of  writing 
letters,  he  were  to  proceed  to  the  French  capital,  and  spend  time 
in  personally  advocating  his  claims,  a  better  and  more  immediate 
result  might  be  obtained.  Without  any  farther  delay  he  hurried 
to  Paris,  and  not  an  official  in  that  large  city  could  call  a  moment 
his  own  until  Jones's  claims  had  been  listened  to.  He  hunted 
them  like  rabbits ;  waited  outside  their  holes,  and  pounced  upon 
them  the  instant  they  put  out  their  heads.  No  circumlocution- 
office  could  resist  such  direct  and  inveterate  application.  In  a 
very  few  days  Jones  received  a  letter  from  the  French  minister, 
informing  him  that  the  ship  Duras,  of  forty  guns,  was  placed  at 
his  command.  Paul  Jones  asked  leave  to  change  the  name  of 
the  vessel,  and,  on  obtaining  it,  rechristened  the  ship  to  the  Bon 
Homme  Richard,  out  of  respect  to  Poor  Richard's  Almanac,  which 
he  imagined  had  first  indicated  the  proper  course  to  adopt  to  se- 
cure a  result. 

In  his  first  cruise,  Jones  conceived  some  bold  designs  against 
the  enemy — such,  for  instance,  as  the  meditated  attack  on  the 
"  town  and  harbor  of  Leith,  in  Scotland ;  but  the  squadron  which 
was  supposed  to  be  under  his  command  had  a  voice  in  the  direc- 
tion of  affairs,  and  interposed  many  obstacles  in  the  way  of  the 
daring  commander.  On  the  coast  of  Scotland,  however,  he  came 


308  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

across  the  Baltic  fleet  of  merchantmen,  under  the  escort  of  En- 
glish war  vessels.  An  engagement  immediately  ensued.  Jones 
engaged  the  frigate  Serapis,  and,  after  a  terrific  struggle  of  three 
and  a  half  hours,  captured  her.  So  obstinate  was  the  struggle, 
that  the  men  on  either  vessel  knew  not  which  had  struck  until 
the  American  flag  decided  the  question.  Both  ships  were  com- 
pletely torn  to  pieces  by  the  engagement,  and  the  Bon  Homme 
Richard  leaked  so  fearfully  that  the  next  day  she  went  down. 
Nothing  but  the  determined  bravery  of  Jones  gave  him  this  glo- 
rious victory,  for  the  Serapis  had  more  guns  and  threw  more  metal 
than  the  Poor  Richard.  In  other  respects  she  was  more  completely 
armed,  could  sail  better,  and  was  manned  with  a  well-disciplined 
crew.  To  conquer  such  a  vessel  was  sufficient  to  make  any  man 
famous.  Paul  Jones  became  at  once  the  naval  hero  of  the  day, 
the  terror  of  the  seas.  It  was  the  principal  achievement  of  his  life, 
and  was  subsequently  commemorated  by  Congress,  who  caused  a 
medal  to  be  struck  in  honor  of  the  hero,  -s  » ••-•• 

Without  entering  into  great,  and,  to  most,  readers,  uninterest- 
ing details  of  private  history,  it  would  be  impossible  to  follow  the 
career  of  Paul  Jones.  He  employed  his  time  usefully  in  the  serv- 
ice of  the  Commonwealth,  his  desires  being  far  ahead  of  the  lim- 
ited means  of  the  Congress,  and  his  importunities,  in  consequence, 
extremely  unpleasant.  When  the  independence  of  the  United 
States  became  duly  recognized,  Paul  Jones  looked  abroad  for  a 
new  field  of  action.  He  received  an  invitation  to  join  the  Rus- 
sian fleet,  with  the  rank  of  rear  admiral,  but  was  disappointed  in 
obtaining  command  of  the  fleet.  He  served  for  some  little  time, 
but,  becoming  irritable  and  unduly  vainglorious,  he  received  per- 
mission to  retire.  To  revenge  this,  he  made  efforts  to  change  his 
flag — to  go  over  to  Russia's  enemy,  Sweden.  Fortunately  failing, 
he  returned  to  Paris,  where  he  remained  for  some  time,  prosecut- 
ing his  claims  for  prize-money.  Ill  health,  provoked  by  constant 
irritation,  ensued,  and  on  the  18th  of  July,  1792,  he  died,  in  com- 
parative poverty  and  obscurity. 

Paul  Jones  was  a  man  of  unquestionable  talent  and  courage ; 
he  conducted  all  his  operations  with  great  boldness,  and  calcu- 
lated their  chances  of  success  with  extreme  nicety.  He  was,  how-  • 
ever,  of  an  unpleasant  temper,  easily  irritated,  and  remarkably 
offensive  to  those  beneath  him.  He  was  absurdly  vain,  not  very 
truthful,  and  greedy  of  applause.  From  the  first  he  appears  to 


JOHN  PAUL  JONES.  309 

have  entertained  a  great  spite  against  Scotland,  and  he  never  re- 
turned to  that  country,  where  he  was  remembered  with  loathing 
and  abhorrence.  He  had  some  relatives,  however,  with  whom  he 
corresponded,  and  also  assisted  pecuniarily.  "  The  glaring  defect 
of  Paul  Jones's  character,"  says  Mr.  Mackenzie,  in  his  Life,  "and 
the  foundation  of  many  others,  was  his  abounding  vanity.  This 
evinced  itself  in  the  stress  which  he  laid  on  the  honors  he  had  re- 
ceived from  kings  and  Congresses,  and  which,  though  not  unmer- 
ited, were  in  no  slight  degree  drawn  forth  by  his  own  well-applied 
solicitation ;  in  the  multiplication  of  his  busts  and  medals ;  and 
the  constant  recapitulation,  with  due  exaggeration,  of  his  various 
achievements.  No  hero,  indeed,  ever  sounded  his  own  trumpet 
more  unremittingly  or  with  a  louder  blast.  This  absorbing  van- 
ity led  him  to  claim  for  himself  the  whole  glory  of  his  victories. 
In  all  his  elaborate  reports  of  his  engagements — except,  indeed, 
during  his  Russian  campaign,  where  the  slight  passed  upon  his 
officers  became  a  reflection  on  himself — he  is  the  hero,  and  the 
sole  hero  of  his  own  tale.  The  only  occasion  on  which  he  com- 
mends any  of  his"  officers  is  in  small  notes  at  the  foot  of  each  of 
their  certificates,  appended  to  his  charges  against  Landais,  and 
where  his  object  is  to  give  force  to  their  testimony.  It  may  be 
said,  in  excuse,  that  this  vanity  of  distinction,  which  was  the 
cause  of  his  injustice  in  restraining  him  from  giving  credit  to  oth- 
ers, was  also  the  exciting  motive  of  his  actions,  by  so  powerfully 
stimulating  him  to  excel.  Still,  his  unwillingness  to  commend 
others,  and  award  to  each  of  his  followers  his  just  meed  of  praise, 
was  a  very  great  fault.  A  commander  can  have  no  more  sacred 
duty  than  that  which  he  owes  in  this  respect  to  those  who,  even 
in  the  humblest  stations,  contribute  to  his  glory." 


WILLIAM  FALCONER. 

THIS  illustrious  poet  of  the  sea,  a  poet  who  possesses  more  fas- 
cination for  the  youthful  mind  than  almost  any  other,  was  the 
son  of  a  poor  man  at  Edinburgh,  Scotland,  and  was  born  about 
1736  or  1737.  His  father  was,  at  various  times,  a  barber,  a 
maker  of  wigs,  and  a  grocer,  but,  in  spite  of  these  numerous  pro- 
fessions, he  remained  poor,  and  could  barely  struggle  against  the 
wants  of  the  world.  There  were  several  children  in  the  family, 
but,  melancholy  to  relate,  they  were  all  deaf  and  dumb  with  the 
exception  of  William.  The  latter  was  a  lumpish,  heavy-looking 
lad,  very  careless  and  dirty  in  his  dress,  and  was  commonly  ad- 
dressed by  the  mellifluous  name  of  Bubly-hash  Falconer.  He  re- 
ceived only  a  few  weeks'  schooling,  and  was  then  placed,  reluct- 
antly on  his  part,  on  board  a  merchant  vessel  at  Leith.  Subse- 
quently he  became  second  mate  on  a  vessel  employed  in  the  Le- 
vant trade,  and,  while  on  a  passage  from  Alexandria  to  Venice, 
was  shipwrecked  near  Cape  Colonne,  on  the  coast  of  Greece. 
The  exact  date  when  this  calamity  happened  is  not  known  ;  only 
three  of  the  crew  survived,  among  whom  was  Falconer.  The 
event  made  such  a  powerful  impression  on  his  mind,  that  he  gave 
it  poetic  shape  and  utterance  in  his  remarkable  poem  of  "  The 
Shipwreck." 

In  1751  Falconer  commenced  his  poetical  career,  although  at 
that  time  a  common  sailor.  He  wrote  an  elegy,  and  a  few  mis- 
cellaneous poems,  such  as  most  young  men  compose,  which  ap- 
peared in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  without  creating  any  re- 
markable consternation  in  the  literary  world.  In  1762  he  pub- 
lished his  poem  of  "  The  Shipwreck,"  dedicating  it  to  the  Duke 
of  York,  who,  as  an  old  salt,  felt  not  a  little  proud  of  the  work, 
coming  as  it  did  from  an  humble,  untutored  sailor.  The  poem 
attracted  immediate  attention,  and  was  hugely  commended  in  the 
Monthly  Review.  We  quote  a  portion  of  the  criticism :  "  The 
main  subject  of  the  poem  is  the  loss  of  the  ship  Britannia,  bound 
from  Alexandria  to  Venice,  which  touched  at  the  island  of  Can- 
dia,  whence,  proceeding  on  her  voyage,  she  met  with  a  violent 


WILLIAM  FALCONER.  311 

storm  that  drove  her  on  the  coasts  of  Greece,  where  she  suffered 
shipwreck  near  Cape  Colonne,  three  only  of  the  crew  being  left 
alive.  The  ship  putting  to  sea  from  the  port  of  Candia,  the  poet 
takes  an  opportunity  of  making  several  beautiful  marine  descrip- 
tions, such  as  the  prospect  of  the  shore,  a  shoal  of  dolphins,  a 
water-spout,  the  method  of  taking  an  azimuth,  and  working  the 
ship.  In  the  second  canto,  the  ship  having  cleared  the  land,  the 
storm  begins,  and  with  it  the  consultation  of  the  pilots  and  oper- 
ations of  the  seamen,  all  which  the  poet  has  described  with  an 
amazing  minuteness,  and  has  found  means  to  reduce  the  several 
technical  terms  of  the  marine  into  smooth  and  harmonious  num- 
bers. Homer  has  been  admired  by  some  for  reducing  a  catalogue 
of  ships  into  tolerably  flowing  verse,  but  who,  except  a  poetical 
sailor,  the  nursling  of  Apollo,  educated  by  Neptune,  would  ever 
have  thought  of  versifying  his  own  sea  language  1  What  other 
poet  would  ever  have  dreamed  of  reef-tackles,  halliards,  clew-gar- 
nets, buntlines,  lashings,  laniards,  and  fifty  other  terms  equally 
obnoxious  to  the  soft  sing-song  of  modern  poetasters  ? 

"  Many  of  his  descriptions  are  not  inferior  to  any  thing  in  the 
jEneid,  many  passages  in  the  third  and  fifth  books  of  which  our 
author  has  had  in  view.  They  have  not  suffered  by  his  imitation, 
and  his  pilot  appears  to  much  greater  advantage  than  the  Palinu- 
rus  of  Virgil.  Nor  is  the  poet's  talent  confined  to  the  description 
of  inanimate  scenes ;  he  relates  and  bewails  the  untimely  fate  of 
his  companions  in  the  most  animated  and  pathetic  strains.  The 
close  of  the  master's  address  to  the  seamen,  in  the  time  of  their 
greatest  danger,  is  noble  and  philosophical.  It  is  impossible  to 
read  the  circumstantial  account  of  the  unfortunate  end  of  the 
ship's  crew  without  being  deeply  affected  by  the  tale,  and  charm- 
ed with  the  manner  of  the  relation."  Poets  in  our  days  labor  in 
vain  for  praise  like  this.  We  may  well  ask  ourselves  if  it  was 
entirely  deserved.  Falconer's  poem  had  unquestionable  merit, 
not  the  least  of  which  was  its  novelty.  It  has  taken  its  place 
among  the  classics  of  English  literature  ;  but  to  compare  it  with 
Virgil  requires  an  effort  of  unscrupulous  kindness  not  common  in 
this  degenerate  age. 

In  1763  Falconer  was  appointed  purser  of  the  Glory  frigate  of 
32  guns.  Soon  after,  he  married  a  young  lady  of  the  name  of 
Hicks,  and  lived  with  her  in  great  harmony  and  happiness  until 
the  time  of  her  death.  When  the  Glory  was  laid  up  in  ordinary, 


312  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

Falconer  employed  himself  in  the  compilation  of  a  valuable  ma- 
rine dictionary  (1769),  and  soon  after  adopted  the  profession  of 
,  literature;  with  the  usual  conveniences — that  is  to  say,  a  garret 
and  debts.  He  struggled  on,  however,  and  at  length  was  fortu- 
nate enough  to  receive  a  proposal  from  Mr.  Murray,  the  booksel- 
ler, to  join  with  him  in  taking  Mr.  Sandby's  business,  opposite  St. 
Dunstan's  Church,  London.  He  did  not  accept  this  proposition, 
but  the  fact  of  its  having  been  made  shows  that,  at  this  time,  he 
had  at  least  one  influential  friend. 

In  1769  a  third  edition  of  the  "  Shipwreck"  was  called  for, 
but  before  its  publication  the  author  had  been  appointed  purser 
of  the  Aurora  frigate  (probably  weary  of  literature),  bound  for 
India,  and  on  the  30th  of  September  he  took  his  departure.  The 
vessel  was  never  heard  of  more.  It  has  beefc  supposed  that  she 
perished  by  fire,  but  the  more  general  opinion  seems  to  be  that 
she  foundered  in  the  Mozambique  Channel.  Burns  alludes  to 
the  eyent  with  feeling.  "  Falconer,"  says  he,  "  the  unfortunate 
author  of  the  '  Shipwreck,'  which  you  so  much  admire,  is  no  more. 
After  weathering  the  dreadful  catastrophe  he  so  feelingly  describes 
in  his  poem,  and  after  weathering  so  many  hard  gales  of  fortune, 
he  went  to  the  bottom  with  the  Aurora  frigate."  In  person, 
Falconer  was  about  five  feet  two  inches  in  height,  of  a  thin,  light 
make,  with  hard  features,  and  a  weather-beaten  complexion.  His 
hair  was  brown,  and  fee  was  marked  with  the  small-pox.  In  his 
common  address,  it  is  said,  he  was  blunt  and  forbidding,  but  quick 
and  fluent  in  conversation.  His  observation  was  keen,  and  his 
judgments  acute  and  severe.  His  natural  temper  was  cheerful, 
and  he  used  to  amuse  his  companions,  the  seamen,  with  acrostics 
which  he  made  on  their  favorite  nymphs.  He  was  a  good  and 
skillful  seaman.  As  for  education,  he  assured  Governor  Hunter 
that  it  was  confined  to  reading,  English,  and  arithmetic.  In  his 
voyages  he  had  picked  up  a  little  colloquial  knowledge  of  Italian 
and  Spanish,  and  such  other  languages  as  are  spoken  on  the  shores 
of  the  Mediterranean.  That  he  was  esteemed  by  his  messmates 
is  shown  in  a  passage  of  a  little  work  called  the  "  Journal  of  a 
Seaman,"  written  in  1755,  and  published  by  Murray  hi  1815. 
"  How  often,"  says  the  author,  "  have  I  wished  to  have  the  asso- 
ciate of  my  youth,  Bill  Falconer,  with  me,  to  explore  these  beau- 
ties, and  to  read  them  in  his  sweet  poetry.  But  alas !  I  parted 
with  him  in  old  England,  never,  perhaps,  to  meet  more  in  this 


WILLIAM  FALCONER.  313 

world.  His  may  be  a  happier  lot,  led  by  a  gentler  star ;  he  may 
pass  through  this  busy  scene  with  more  ease  and  tranquillity  than 
has  been  the  fortune  of  his  humble  friend  Penrose." 

Falconer's  reputation  as  a  poet  rests  almost  entirely  on  his 
poem  of  the  "Shipwreck,"  and  this,  to  be  enjoyed,  requires  a 
young  and  ardent  imagination,  indifferent  to  faults  of  style  and 
defects  of  measure,  and  intent  merely  on  the  stirring  incidents  of 
danger,  which  are  depicted  with  unusual  minuteness  and  force. 
The  poem  will  always  be  popular,  for  the  subject  is  one  which 
possesses  a  never-failing  interest.  Considering  the  educational 
and  social  difficulties  under  which  the  author  labored,  it  is  a  work 
of  extraordinary  power,  and  evinces  poetic  genius  of  a  high  and 
commanding  order.  . 

O 


SIE   HTJMPHKEY   DAVY. 

ONE  of  the  many  sons  of  science  to  whom  the  world  is  largely 
indebted,  not  only  for  philosophical  disquisitions  and  great  learn- 
ing, but  for  practical  and  useful  inventions  of  every-day  utility,  is 
the  illustrious  gentleman  whose  name  is  at  the  head  of  this  article. 
He  belongs  in  aft -eminent  degree  to  our  series.  With  very  few 
advantages  of  birth  and  education,  he  rose  to  eminence  mainly 
through  his  own  exertions.  We  shall  trace  his  history  chiefly 
from  the  loving  memorials  of  his  brother,  Dr.  John  Davy. 

Sir  Humphrey  Davy  was  the  eldest  son  of  Robert  and  Grace 
Davy,  and  was  born  at  Penzance,  in  Cornwall,  on  the  17th  of 
December,  1778.  He  was  a  precocious  child,  and  gave  evidence 
of  the  possession  of  unusual  faculties.  When  scarcely  five  years 
old  he  made  rhymes,  and  recited  them  in  the  Christmas  gambols, 
attired  in  some  fanciful  dress  prepared  for  the  occasion  by  a  play- 
ful girl  who  was  related  to  him.  His  disposition  as  a  child  was 
remarkably  sweet  and  affectionate.  His  father  followed  the  pro- 
fession of  a  carver  in  wood,  and,  although  not  in  affluent  circum- 
stances, was  able  to  send  his  son  to  the  grammar-school  of  Truro, 


SIB  HUMPHREY  DAVY.  315 

where  he  acquired  a  rudimental  education.  At  the  age  of  seven- 
teen he  was  apprenticed  to  an. apothecary  in  Penzance,  and,  with 
none  of  the  usual  vacillation  of  youth,  set  about  a  complete  course 
of  study.  The  following  memorandum,  copied  from  a  note-book 
of  this  year,  will  show  that  he  was  not  afraid  of  hard  work : 

PLAN  OF  STUDY. 

1.  THEOLOGY,  or  RELIGION,       ")        ("Taught  by  Nature, 
ETHICS,  or  MORAL  VIRTUES,)       1      "      by  Eevelation. 

2.  GEOGRAPHY. 

3.  MY  PROFESSION  : 

1.  Botany; 

2.  Pharmacy; 

3.  Nosology; 

4.  Anatomy; 

5.  Surgery ; 

6.  Chemistry. 

4.  LOGIC. 

5.  LANGUAGE: 

1.  English; 

2.  French; 

3.  Latin. 

4.  Greek; 

5.  Italian ; 

6.  Spanish ; 

7.  Hebrew. 

6.  PHYSICS: 

1.  The  Doctrines  and  Properties  of  Natural  Bodies; 

2.  Of  the  Operations  of  Nature ; 

3.  Of  the  Doctrines  of  Fluids ; 

4.  Of  the  Properties  of  organized  Matter ; 

5.  Of  the  Organization  of  Matter ; 

6.  Simple  Astronomy. 

7.  MECHANICS. 

8.  RHETORIC  AND  ORATORY. 

9.  HISTORY  AND  CHRONOLOGY. 
10.  MATHEMATICS. 

The  study  of  chemistry,  like  that  of  mathematics,  is  irresistible 
to  certain  minds,  and  Davy  soon  found  himself  completely  ab- 


316  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

sorbed  in  its  pursuit.  The  activity  and  suggestiveness  of  his 
mind  outstripped  all  formula.  He  entered  upon  speculations 
and  inquiries  far  in  advance  of  the  rudiments  he  was  studying. 
These,  in  due  time,  assumed  a  practical  guise  in  the  shape  of  es- 
says, and,  being  crude  and  imperfect,  excited  the  ire  of  the  re- 
viewers. "  These  criticsx"  he  writes,  "  perhaps  do  not  understand 
that  these  experiments  were  made  when  I  had  studied  chemistry 
only  four  months,  when  I  had  never  seen  a  single  experiment 
executed,  and  when  all  my  information  was  derived  from  Nichol- 
son's Chemistry  and  Lavoisier's  Elements." 

The  early  experiments  of  this  philosopher  were  performed  in  a 
small  bed-room  in  Mr.  Tomkins's  house,  with  a  laboratory  con- 
sisting of  vials,  wine-glasses,  tea-cups,  tobacco-pipes,  and  earthen 
crucibles;  his  materials  chiefly  the  mineral  acids,  the  alkalies, 
and  the  other  articles  common  to  an  apothecary's  shop.  He  had 
no  furnace,  and,  when  he  needed  heat,  was  compelled  to  go  into 
the  kitchen,  -where  you  may  rest  assured  the  cook  did  not  thank 
him  for  his  devotion  to  science.  Notwithstanding  these  draw- 
backs, he  made  rapid  progress  in  the  study  of  chemistry  and  the 
relative  sciences,  and  before  he  had  reached  his  twentieth  year 
was  remarkable  for  the  exactness  of  his  information  on  many 
learned  subjects.  He  now  left  Penzance,  having  obtained  the 
situation  of  superintendent  of  the  Pneumatic  Institution  which 
had  been  established  at  Clifton  for  the  purpose  of  trying  the  me- 
dicinal effects  of  various  gases.  Davy  remained  here  for  some 
time,  and  was  quite  enthusiastic  about  the  prospects  of  curing 
disease  by  the  use  of  various  gases  hitherto  unknown  to  medicine. 
He  describes  his  occupation  as  "  useful  to  mankind ;  pursuits 
which  promise  me,  at  some  future  time,  the  honorable  meed  of 
the  applause  of  enlightened  men."  This  prophetic  feeling  of  dis- 
tinction was  soon  about  to  be  realized.  The  Royal  Institution 
had  been  founded  a  short  time  previously,  after  a  plan  of  Count 
Rumford's,  for  the  purpose  of  diffusing  a  knowledge  of  science 
und  of  its  application  to  the  common  purposes  of  life,  and  of  ex- 
citing a  taste  for  science  among  the  higher  ranks.  In  conse- 
quence of  the  expected  retirement  of  the  professor  of  chemistry, 
a  successor  was  sought  for,  and  the  choice  fell  upon  Davy.  The 
duties  on  which  he  entered  were  those  of  assistant  lecturer  on 
chemistry  and  director  of  the  laboratory ;  but,  according  to  the 
terms  on  which  he  accepted  the  situation,  this  was  merely  a  tern-. 


SIR  HUMPHREY  DAVY.  317 

porary  arrangement,  and  to  last  only  until  he  should  deem  him- 
self fit  to  fill  the  professor's  chair.  On  the  31st  of  May,  1802, 
he  was  formally  appointed  to  the  office,  and,  notwithstanding  his 
youth,  immediately  attracted  the  attention  of  the  philosophical 
world.  His  lectures  were  eagerly  attended  by  the  distinguished 
in  science,  literature,  and  position'.  Compliments,  invitations,  and 
presents  were  showered  upon  him  in  abundance  from  all  quarters  ; 
his  society  was  courted  by  all,  and  all  appeared  proud  of  his  ac- 
quaintance. His  youth,  his  simplicity,  his  natural  eloquence,  his 
happy  illustrations,  and  well-conducted  experiments,  were  the  in- 
troductions which  gave  him  welcome  every  where.  In  1803  Davy 
was  elected  a  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society,  and  for  ten  sessions 
delighted  the  institution  and  enriched  its  Transactions  with  his 
lectures.  His  scientific  labors  during  this  time  may  be  divided 
into  two  portions,  the  earlier  one  terminating  with  his  great  dis- 
covery of  the  decomposition  of  the  fixed  alkalies,  the  result  and 
reward  of  his  electro-chemical  researches ;  the  latter  in  the  re- 
establishment  of  the  simple  nature  of  chlorine. 

During  the  first  portion  of  the  period,  among  a  great  variety  of 
objects  of  research,  his  attention  was  more  particularly  directed 
to  the  following :  First,  the  investigation  of  astringent  vegetables,  • 
in  connection  with  the  art  of  tanning ;  secondly,  the  analysis  of 
rocks  and  minerals,  in  connection  with  geology ;  thirdly,  the  com- 
pi'ehensive  subject  of  agricultural  chemistry ;  and,  fourthly,  gal- 
vanism, and  electro-chemical  science.  In  the  year  1812,  unso- 
licited by  Davy,  the  prince  regent  conferred  on  him  the  honor  of 
knighthood.  It  was  intended,  doubtless,  as  a  mark  of  respect  to 
a  man  of  unusfcal  genius,  and  was  so  accepted.  In  those  days 
men  of  genius  were  flattered  by  such  little  trifles.  In  these  later 
times  they  despise  them.  A  few  days  after  this  event  Davy  mar- 
ried a  charming  widow,  Mrs.  Appreece  by  name.  Honors  were 
showered  on  him ;  this  happiness  he  achieved. 

It  is  unnecessary  and  uninteresting  in  the  present  day  to  re- 
count the  innumerable  distinctions  that  wer»  bestowed  on  Davy 
by  the  learned  bodies  of  Europe ;  to  say  when  he  was  appointed 
a  corresponding  member  of  this  society,  and  an  honorary  member 
of  that.  It  is  sufficient  for  our  purpose  that  he  was  accepted  and 
received  as  a  man  of  mark  in  the  scientific  world,  and  to  hasten 
to  what  he  accomplished  to  give  him  this  distinction. 

One  of  the  fruits  of  his  researches  was  the  "  safety-lamp,"  now 


318  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

familiar  to  every  eye.     The  object  which  this  simple  instrument 
so  happily  accomplishes  is  the  prevention  of  explosions  of  fire- 
damp in  mines.     From  innumerable  experiments,  Davy  found  that 
this  gas  required  to  be  mixed  with  a  very  large  quantity  of  at- 
mospheric air  to  produce. an  explosion ;  that  it  was  the  least  read- 
ily combustible  of  all  the  inflammable  gases,  or  required  the  high- 
est temperature,  being  neither  exploded  nor  fired  by  red-hot  char- 
coal or  red-hot  iron  ;  and,  farther,  that  the  heat  it  produced  when 
inflamed  was  less  than  from  any  other  inflammable  gas,  and,  con- 
sequently, that  the  expansive  effect  from  heat  attending  its  ex- 
plosion was-  also  less.     He  found  that  on  mixing  one  part  of  car- 
bonic acid  gas  or  fixed  air  with  seven  parts  of  an  explosive  mix- 
ture of  fire-damp,  or  one  part  of  azote  with  six  parts,  their  power 
of  exploding  was  destroyed.     He  found  that  in  exploding  a  mix- 
ture in  a  glass  tube  of  one  fourth  of  an  inch  in  diameter  and  a 
foot  long,  more  than  a  second  was  required  before  the  flame  reach- 
ed from  one  end  to  the  other ;  and  that  in  tubes  of  one  seventh 
of  an  inch  in  diameter,  explosive  mixtures  could  not  be  fired  when 
they  opened  into  the  atmosphere ;  and  that  metallic  tubes  pre- 
vented explosion  better  than  glass  tubes.     These  were  the  facts 
from  which  the  discovery  of  the  safety-lamp  was  made.     In  rea- 
soning upon  the  various  phenomena,  it  occurred  to  Davy  that,  as 
a  considerable  heat  was  required  for  the  inflammation  of  the  fire- 
damp, and  as  it  produced,  in  burning,  a  comparatively  small  de- 
gree of  heat,  the  effect  of  carbonic  acid  and  azote,  and  of  the  sur- 
faces of  small  tubes  in  preventing  its  explosion,  depended  upon 
their  cooling  powers,  upon  their  lowering  the  temperature  of  the 
exploding  mixture  so  much  that  it  was  no  longer^ufficient  for  its 
continuous  inflammation.     He  says,  "  This  idea,  which  was  con- 
firmed by  various  obvious  considerations,  led  to  an  immediate  re- 
sult— the  possibility  of  constructing  a  lamp  in  which  the  cooling 
powers  of  the  azote  or  carbonic  acid  formed  by  the  combustion, 
or  the  cooling  power  of  the  apertures  through  which  the  air  en- 
tered and  made  its  £xit,  should  prevent  the  communication  of  ex- 
plosion."    The  prosecution  of  this  idea  led  to  the  invention  of 
the  safety-lamp — a  cage  of  wire  gauze,  which  actually  made  pris- 
oner the  flame  of  the  fire-damp,  and  in  its  prison  consumed  it ; 
and  while  it  confined  the  dangerous  explosive  flame,  it  permitted 
air  to  pass  and  light  to  escape ;  and  though,  from  the  combustion 
of  the  fire-damp,  the  cage  might  become  red  hot,  yet  still  it  acted 


SIR  HUMPHREY  DAVY.  319 

the  part  of  a  safety-lamp,  and  restrained  the  flaming  element 
within  its  narrow  bounds,  simply  by  presenting  a  surface  of  net- 
work, the  temperature  of  which,  under  ordinary  circumstances, 
could  not  be  raised  sufficiently  to  explode  the  surrounding  atmos- 
phere of  fire-damp,  or  to  allow  the  flame  within  to  pass  unextin- 
guished. 

Another  useful  and  valuable  discovery  was  made  by  Davy, 
namely,  a  method  of  preserving  the  copper  sheathing  of  ships  from 
the  corrosive  action  of  salt  water.  The  principle  of  protection 
was  found  to  be  perfect,  but  in  its  practical  application  some  diffi- 
culties arose  which  Davy  did  not  live  to  obviate,  although  he  made 
some  valuable  suggestions  toward  that  end.  Many  other  useful 
and  eminently  practical  discoveries  were  made  by  Davy,  especially 
in  the  tanning  business,  which  in  those  days  was  carried  on  with 
hereditary  rather  than  chemical  skill.  The  experimental  charac- 
ter of  his  mind  led  him  naturally  into  new  fields  of  investigation, 
and  it  is  but  justice  to  say  that  whatever  he  approached  he  ben- 
efited. Few  men  possessed  a  more  practical  yet  thoroughly  re- 
fined taste  than  Davy.  Philosophers  not  unfrequently  lose  them- 
selves in  the  abstruseness  of  the  subjects  they  investigate,  but 
with  him  this  was  never  the  case.  He  was  a  man  of  the  world ; 
keenly  observant ;  mindful  of  its  wants,  and  anxious  to  lend  all 
the  force  of  his  character  and  genius  to  the  onward  progress  of 
civilization.  He  was  of  a  contented  and  beautiful  disposition, 
fond  of  innocent  amusements,  and  especially  delighted  with  the 
ever-varying  aspects  of  nature.  He  had  traveled  much,  and,  at 
the  time  when  death  overtook  him,  was  on  the  Continent,  endeav- 
oring to  regain  in  genial  climes  the  health  he  had  lost  by  too  close 
application.  It  was  during  this  time  that  he  recomposed  his  de- 
lightful little  book  on  fly-fishing,  called  "  Salmonia,"  a  work  which 
justly  ranks  next  to  old  Izaak  Walton's  for  variety  of  informa- 
tion and  charming  picturesqueness  of  detail.  He  was  also  en- 
gaged on  another  work  called  "  The  Last  Days  of  a  Philosopher," 
since  given  to  the  world.  He  was  a  voluminous  writer,  and  it 
may  be  doubted  if  any  modern  philosopher  has  contributed  more 
largely  to  the  literature  of  science  than  he. 

Sir  Humphrey  Davy  died  at  Geneva  on  the  30th  of  May,  1829. 
He  had  only  arrived  in  that  city  the  day  before,  and  having  been 
attacked  by  apoplexy  after  he  had  gone  to  bed,  expired  at  an  early 
hour  in  the  morning. 


EOBEET   DODSLEY. 

"I  KNEW  Darteneuf  well,  for  I  was  his  footman."  Such  was 
the  characteristic  admission  of  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  uttered 
to  that  severest  of  critics,  Dr.  Johnson,  and  at  a  time,  too,  when 
the  name  of  Dodsley  was  a  passport  to  much  excellent  society. 
An  individual  blessed  with  such  strength  of  character  presents 
many  excellent  traits  worthy  of  imitation,  and  we  give  his  biog- 
raphy as  an  essential  element  of  self-made  success. 

Kobert  Dodsley  was  born  in  1703  at  Mansfield,  in  Notting- 
hamshire. Nothing  is  known  of  his  parents,  except  that  they 
were  poor,  and  unable  to  give  him  more  than  an  ordinary  rudi- 
mental  education.  Early  in  life  he  became  a  male  servant,  or 
footman,  in  the  service  of  the  Honorable  Mr.  Lowther,  and  com 
tinued  in  that  somewhat  degrading  employment  for  many  years, 
wearing  a  livery,  and  exhibiting  his  calves  in  the  most  approved 
fashion  of  the  day.  He  was  steady  and  observant,  and  his  nat- 
ural abilities  gave  him  some  little  distinction  beyond  that  awarded 
to  his  station.  Having  made  some  attempts  at  versification,  he 
found  patrons  who  induced  him  to  publish  them,  and  exerted, 
themselves  to  procure  a  handsome  list  of  subscribers.  The  title 
of  this  work,  which  was  published  in  1732,  was,  "The  Muse  in 
Livery.  A  Collection  of  Poems.  By  R.  Dodsley,  Footman  to  a 
Person  of  Quality  at  Whitehall."  The  contents  of  the  volume 
were  not  remarkable  for  poetic  beauty  or  for  exactness  of  meas- 
ure, but,  heralded  in  such  a  candid  way,  they  attracted  attention, 
and  induced  Dodsley  to  prepare  another  work  for  the  press,  called 
"  The  Toy  Shop."  This  was  a  dramatic  satire  on  the  fashionable 
follies  of  the  day,  and  had  merit.  Pope  (to  whom  it  was  shown) 
expressed  himself  warmly  in  its  favor,  and  exerted  himself  to  get 
it  brought  out  on  the  stage.  In  1735  it  was  produced  at  Covent 
Garden  Theatre,  and  at  once  achieved  a  signal  success. 

There  was  now  a  fair  prospect  for  Dodsley  in  the  literary  world. 
Many  men  have  adopted  the  profession  of  letters  with  much  smaller 
capital.  But,  although  a  poet,  he  was  of  a  practical  turn  of  mind, 
and  could  see  that  commerce  was  better  than  literature  in  -a  pe- 


ROBERT  DODSLEY.  321 

^uniary  point  of  view.  To  combine  the  two  was  his  ardent  wish, 
and,  with  the  profits  of  his  play  and  other  assistance,  he  determ- 
ined to  do  so.  With  this  object  in  view,  he  opened  a  bookseller's 
store  in  Pall  Mall,  London  (1735),  and  by  politeness  and  atten- 
tion succeeded  in  making  it  a  daily  resort  of  the  most  eminent 
authors.  Pope  was  his  great  literary  patron,  and  his  countenance 
was,  of  course,  a  powerful  auxiliary.  In  a  short  time  Dodsley 
became  celebrated  for  the  fairness  of  his  dealings  and  the  liberal- 
ity with  which  he  conducted  his  business,  and  soon  had  the  most 
famous  and  most  prosperous  publishing  house  in  the  British  me- 
tropolis. Among  the  works  of  sterling  merit  which  in  the  early 
part  of  his  career  he  ushered  into  the  world,  was  Johnson's  "  Lon- 
don," the  copyright  of  which  he  purchased  after  several  other 
houses  had  declined  to  have  anything  to  do  with  it.  Nor  was 
his  own  pen  idle.  In  1737  he  produced  "The  King  and  the 
Miller  of  Mansfield,"  a  farce  founded  on  a  traditionary  story  of 
English  history.  It  was  acted  at  Drury  Lane,  and  was  quite  as 
successful  as  his  first  effort.  In  the  following  year  he  wrote  a 
sequel  to  this  piece,  called  "  Sir  John  Cockle  at  Court,"  and  sub- 
sequently two  other  pieces,  all  of  which  have  been  forgotten,  and 
need  not  be  mentioned  here.  In  1748  he  collected  these  produc- 
tions into  a  volume  with  the  unassuming  title  of  "  Trifles,"  add- 
ing to  the  number  a  pantomime  on  a  new  plan.  He  was  fond  of 
dramatic  composition,  and  made  it  the  vehicle  for  holding  pleasant 
communion  with  the  public.  Beside  his  original  compositions, 
Dodsley  was  engaged  in  planning  and  publishing  many  other 
works.  It  was  he  who  suggested  to  Johnson  the  idea  of  an  En- 
glish Dictionary. 

In  1750  Dodsley  produced  an  original  work,  which  was  at 
once  a  source  of  profit  and  reputation  to  him.  It  was  called 
"  The  Economy  of  Human  Life,"  and  professed  to  be  a  transla- 
tion from  an  Indian  manuscript  by  an  ancient  Brahmin.  For 
some  reason,  into  which  it  is  unnecessary  to  grope,  the  work  was 
universally  ascribed  to  the  Earl  of  Chesterfield.  It  had  a  con- 
siderable share  of  merit,  and  enjoyed  a  wide  reputation,  having 
been  translated  in  France  by  several  publishers.  Indeed,  its  repu- 
tation was  so  great  that  many  imitations  followed  its  advent,  one 
of  which  boldly  assumed  to  be  a  second  part  by  the  author  of  the 
first.  In  1754  Dodsley  tried  his  skill  in  an  elaborate  poetical 
composition,  the  subject  being  Public  Virtue.  The  public  failed 

02 


-322  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

to  display  a  proper  interest  in  virtue,  and  Dodsley  satirically  re- 
marked that  it  was  not  a  subject  to  interest  the  age.  In  1757  he 
published  "  Melpomene,  or  the  Regions  of  Terror  and  Pity.  An 
Ode."  The  poem  contained  some  fine  passages,  and  was  success- 
ful. It  is  considered  the  best  of  his  poems.  In  the  following 
January  he  produced  a  tragedy  called  "  Cleone/'  with  applause. 
Bennet  Langton  relates  that  Dodsley  one  day  began  to  read 
"Cleone"  to  Johnson,  who  displayed  obvious  signs  of  uneasiness. 
At  the  end  of  an  act,  however,  he  said,  "  Come,  let's  have  some 
more ;  let's  go  into  the  slaughter-house  again,  Lanky.  But  I  am 
afraid  there  is  more  blood  than  brains."  Yet  he  afterward  said, 
"  When  I  heard  you  read  it,  I  thought  higher  of  its  powers  of  lan- 
guage ;  when  I  read  it  myself,  I  was  more  sensible  of  its  pathetic 
effect ;"  and  then  he  paid  it  a  high  compliment.  "  Sir,"  said  he, 
"  if  Otway  had  written  this  play,  no  other  of  his  pieces  would 
have  been  remembered."  This  anecdote  gives  us  a  good  insight 
into  the  very  unequal  character  of  Dodsley's  writing,  leaving  the 
reader  uncertain  whether  to  condemn  or  to  praise,  but  finding 
justification  for  either  extreme.  "Cleone"  was  the  last  of  his 
poetical  effusions.  Having  acquired  a  handsome  fortune,  Dods- 
ley retired  from  the  active  pursuit  of  business.  A  predisposition 
to  gout  was  perhaps  one  of  the  reasons  why  he  did  so,  for  busi- 
ness was  unquestionably  pleasure  with  him.  Of  this  disease  he 
died  on  the  25th  of  September,  1764,  in  the  61st  year  of  his  age. 
He  was  buried  in  the  Abbey  Church  of  Durham,  and  the  follow- 
ing just  epitaph  is  inscribed  on  his  tombstone : 

"  If  you  have  any  respect  for  uncommon  industry  and  merit, 
regard  this  place,  in  which  are  deposited  the  remains  of  Mr. 
Robert  Dodsley,  who,  as  an  author,  raised  himself  much  above 
what  could  have  been  expected  from  one  in  his  rank  of  life,  and 
without  a  learned  education  ;  and  who,  as  a  man,  was  scarce 
exceeded  by  any  in  integrity  of  heart,  and  purity  of  manners  and 
conversation.  He  left  this  life  for  a  better,  September  25th,  1764, 
in  the  61st  year  of  his  age." 


ANTONIO  CANOVA. 

ANTONIO  CANOVA,  the  most  remarkable  sculptor  of  modern 
times,  whose  works  lend  grace,  beauty,  and  durability  to  the  homes 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  was  a  native  of  Possagno,  a  village  sit- 
uated at  the  foot  of  the  Venetian  Alps,  where  he  was  born  in 
1757.  He  was  descended  from  a  family  of  sculptors,  the  arts 
descending  from  father  to  son  in  Italy  like  the  titles  of  the  privi- 
leged classes.  His  father  had  some  little  reputation,  but  young 
Antonio  derived  no  advantage  from  it,  for  he  was  an  orphan  at 
the  age  of  three  years.  A  grandfather  adopted  the  lonely  boy, 
and  gave  him  some  instruction  in  the  rudiments  of  art,  employ- 
ing him  in  the  quarries  and  in  the  workshop  of  the  old  stone- 
mason. His  grandmother  was  most  kind  and  affectionate,  and 
neglected  no  opportunity  of  encouraging  the  lad.  Not  only  for 
fame,  but  for  fortune,  she  was  desirous  that  her  grandson  should 
stride  beyond  the  narrow  limits  of  the  stone-cutting  room.  At 
an  early  age  he  modeled  in  clay,  and  shaped  little  fragments  of 
marble  into  easily-recognized  objects.  He  was  enthusiastic,  and 
loved  his  adopted  profession.  Nothing  afforded  him  so  much  de- 


324  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

light  as  being  left  alone  with  a  few  tools  and  a  piece  of  marble. 
They  were  all  the  companions  he  needed. 

Progress  was  the  necessity  of  such  a  disposition.  So  early  as 
his  ninth  year  young  Canova  could  command  the  wages  of  a  work- 
man, and  was  a  favorite  even  at  that.  His  grandfather  was  proud 
of  him,  and,  whenever  any  repairs  were  to  be  done  to  the  neigh- 
boring palaces,  took  the  youthful  journeyman  with  him.  His  re- 
markable talents  were  not  long  in  attracting  notice.  A  Signor 
Falieri,  a  gentleman  of  cultivated  tastes,  interested  himself  in  the 
lad,  and  volunteered  to  take  him  into  his  house  in  order  that  he 
might  enjoy  advantages  of  an  education  which  his  grandfather's 
humble  means  utterly  denied  him.  A  story  has  been  told  that 
Canova  first  attracted  the  attention  of  the  Falieri  family  by  model- 
ing a  lion  in  butter  for  that  gentleman's  table,  but  it  is  very  ques- 
tionable if  this  story  has  any  actual  foundation  in  truth. 

After  receiving  some  general  instruction  in  the  family  of  the 
Falieri,  he  was  placed  under  Torretto,  one  of  the  best  Venetian 
sculptors.  He  accompanied  this  distinguished  artist  to  Venice, 
and  remained  under  his  tuition  until  the  time  of  his  death,  which 
occurred  two  years  later.  By  this  event  Canova  was  left  with- 
out any  guidance  or  restraint,  at  a  moment,  too,  when  both  were 
most  needed.  His  patron,  Falieri,  once  more  came  to  his  assist- 
ance, and  secured  him  admission  into  the  studio  of  the  sculptor 
Gio  Ferrari,  who  was  engaged  at  the  time  on  a  series  of  statues 
for  the  Casa  Tiepolo  at  Carbonara.  With  this  maestro  Canova 
continued  for  about  twelve  months,  and  saw  sufficient  to  convince 
him  that  the  conventionalities  of  art  were  a  restraint  on  genius, 
and  impeded  the  natural  suggestions  of  a  poetic  temperament. 
From  these  conventionalities  he  determined  to  cut  loose,  and  ex- 
plore the  wide  and  ever-remunerative  paths  of  nature.  His  first 
known  works  were  two  baskets  of  fruit,  still  to  be  seen  on  the 
first  landing-place  of  the  Farsetti  Palace,  now  the  Hotel  della 
Gran  Brettagna,  at  Venice.  The  performance  did  not  give  prom- 
ise of  that  excellence  which  Canova  afterward  attained,  but  it  was 
perhapg  a  step  in  the  right  direction. 

An  effort  of  a  more  ambitious  kind  was  the- group  called  Or- 
pheus and  Eurydice,  part  of  which  was  completed,  and  the  whole 
designed  before  his  sixteenth  year.  This  composition,  executed 
in  soft  stone,  was  publicly  exhibited  in  Venice  on  the  occasion  of 
the  festival  of  the  Ascension,  and  attracted  considerable  attention. 


ANTONIO  CANOVA.  325 

The  following  year  he  executed  the  same  subject  in  marble,  hav- 
ing obtained  his  first  important  commission  for  that  group.  Much 
of  his  time  was  still  occupied  with  studies.  He  divided  his  day 
into  three  parts :  the  morning  he  devoted  to  study  in  the  Acad- 
emy or  Galleries,  the  afternoon  to  the  labor  of  the  workshop, 
and  the  evening  to  the  improvement  of  his  mind  in  general  knowl- 
edge. "  I  labored,"  he  says  in  one  of  his  letters,  "  for  a  mere  pit- 
tance ;  but  it  was  sufficient ;  it  was  the  fruit  of  my  own  resolu- 
tion, and,  as  I  then  flattered  myself,  the  foretaste  of  more  honor- 
able rewards,  for  I  never  thought  of  wealth." 

Having  thus  obtained  some  popularity,  and  being  still  a  favor- 
ite with  his  old  patron  Faliero,  he  found  ready  employment  on 
busts.  He  also  modeled  his  group  of  "Daedalus  and  Icarus,"  a 
work  which  may  be  said  to  have  laid  the  foundation  of  his  future 
fame,  and  which  was  immediately  beneficial,  inasmuch  as  it  in- 
duced his  patron  to  insist  that  he  should  repair  to  Rome,  and  in 
that  ample  theatre  of  the  arts  extend  his  studies  and  his  fame 
at  the  same  time.  In  October  of  the  year  1779  Canova  reached 
the  Eternal  City,  and  enjoyed  the  delicious  sensations  which  all 
devotees  must  experience  in  that  vast  emporium  of  plastic  mas- 
terpieces. He  received  a  cordial  welcome  from  the  artists  of 
the  day,  and  was  warmly  praised  for  his  "  Daedalus  and  Icarus" 
group,  which  he  took  with  him  as  a  specimen  of  what  he  could 
do.  "  On  the  first  exhibition  of  this  work,"  says  his  biographer, 
"  he  was  surrounded  by  the  most  distinguished  artists  and  critics 
then  residing  at  Rome,  who  contemplated  the  group  with  silent 
astonishment,  not  daring  to  censure  what,  although  at  variance 
with  the  style  then  followed,  commanded  their  admiration  and  re- 
vealed the  brightest  prospects.  The  embarrassment  of  the  young 
artist  was  extreme,  and  he  frequently  spoke  of  it  afterward  as 
one  of  the  most  anxious  moments  of  his  life.  From  this  state  of 
anxiety  he  was,  however,  soon  relieved  by  the  almost  unanimous 
approbation  of  the  spectators.  Even  the  critics  praised — an  ef- 
fort which  they  are  not  willing  to  make  in  the  cause  of  medioc- 
rity. They  saw  in  the  production  of  the  young  man  much  sim- 
plicity, expression,  and  unaffected  truth  to  nature.  From  that 
day  Canova  had  a  position  among  the  highest.  More  than  this, 
he  received  the  kindly  ad  vice- of  the  best  critics  and  connoisseurs, 
and  was  able  to  detect  errors  in  his  own  style  which  he  was  not 
too  proud  or  too  foolish  to  rectify." 


326  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

The  Venetian  embassador  at  Rome  became  an  admirer  and  pa- 
tron of  the  sculptor.  He  placed  at  his  command  a  block  of  fine 
marble,  and  suggested  a  subject  for  a  group — Theseus,  conqueror 
of  the  Minotaur.  The  work  was  conducted  throughout  in  the 
palace  of  the  embassador,  and  every  kind  of  assistance  was  ren- 
dered to  the  artist.  In  this  work  Can  ova  followed  those  true 
principles  by  which  he  had  proposed  to  himself  to  be  guided  in 
his  works — a  composition  by  which  a  new  path  was  opened  to 
all  productions  of  imitative  art.  The  embassador,  who  watch- 
ed the  progress  of  the  work  with  true  art  enthusiasm,  obtained 
a  cast  of  the  head  of  Theseus  as  soon  as  it  was  ready,  and  dis- 
played it  to  a  party  of  artists  and  critics  who  were  assembled  in 
his  house.  He  took  the  precaution  not  to  inform  them  whence 
it  came,  and  they  uttered  a  profound  opinion  that  it  was  of  Gre- 
cian origin,  varying,  however,  on  some  points  of  merit.  Several 
thought  they  had  seen  the  marble  from  which  it  had  been  taken, 
not  being  able  to  recollect  exactly  where  it  was.  Delighted  and 
flattered  with  the  result  of  his  experiment,  the  embassador  led 
them  into  the  studio  of  the  artist,  and  placed  them  before  the  en- 
tire group.  Their  surprise  was  only  exceeded  by  their  admira- 
tion. They  saw  and  acknowledged  that  a  new  era  in  art  had 
commenced. 

Important  employment  was  now  not  difficult  to  obtain.  He  re- 
ceived a  commission  to  execute  the  monument  of  Pope  Clement  the 
Fourteenth  for  the  church  of  the  SS.  Apostoli  in  Rome.  This  fine 
work  was  exhibited  in  1787,  and  established  Canova's  claim  to' the 
highest  rank  in  his  profession.  Before  it  was  completed,  Can- 
ova  had  commenced  Clement  the  Thirteenth's  monument  for  St. 
Peter's,  a  splendid  work  of  genius  and  executive  skill.  A  story 
is  told  in  Rome  of  Canova  putting  on  a  monk's  dress  and  cowl, 
and  in  this  disguise  mixing  with  the  crowd,  to  hear  the  criticisms 
that  were  made  when  the  work  was  first  exposed  to  public  view. 

Canova's  powers  of  imagination  were  superb,  and  in  works  de- 
manding their  exercise  he  was  unsurpassed.  In  the  mere  mechan- 
ical portions  of  his  business  he  had  many  superiors.  His  busts 
were  not  considered  remarkable.  It  is  not  strange,  therefore, 
that  he  devoted  himself  to  subjects  requiring  an  exercise  of  the 
higher  order  of  genius.  To  recapitulate  the  works  which  he 
produced  in  rapid  succession  would  be  tedious  and  unnecessary. 
Of  statues  and  groups  he  executed  forty ;  of  busts,  eleven  ;  of 


ANTONIO  CANOVA.  327 

monuments,  sixteen  ;  of  bas  reliefs  (principally  in  models),  fifteen. 
Many  of  these  productions  were  of  colossal  proportions,  arid  most 
of  them  of  the  size  of  life.  To  accomplish  so  much,  Canova  ap- 
plied himself  with  unflagging  industry  to  his  vocation.  In  his 
habits  he  was  regular  and  moderate.  He  rose  early,  and  imme- 
diately proceeded  to  his  studio,  where  he  worked  on  his  models 
for  a  time,  and  then  proceeded  with  the  chisel.  In  the  mere 
manual  labor  of  the  sculptor  Canova  introduced  some  innova- 
tions, which  account  in  a  great  measure  for  the  multiplicity  of 
his  works.  Up  to  this  time  it  was  customary  for  the  artist  to 
execute  all  his  own  work,  from  the  rough  hewing  of  the  marble 
to  the  last  touch  of  the  chisel.  Much  valuable  time  was  neces- 
sarily expended  in  the  first  operation  without  any  commensurate 
result,  for  an  ordinary  stone-cutter  was  quite  as  capable  of  saw- 
ing off  a  piece  of  marble  as  Canova  himself.  It  occurred  to  the 
latter,  therefore,  that,  by  making  the  models  similar  in  size  to  the 
statues,  he  could  employ  a  number  of  dexterous  assistants,  who 
would  relieve  him  of  all  the  mechanical  drudgery  of  the  business. 
He  made  the  experiment,  and  succeeded.  Every  sculptor  of  the 
present  day  has  his  studio  liberally  supplied  with  assistants. 

Canova  traveled,  when  young,  over  part  of  Germany,  and  was 
twice  in  Paris.  At  his  last  visit,  when  sent  there  by  the  Roman 
government  to  superintend  the  removal  of  the  works  of  art  which 
had  been  seized  by  the  French  army,  and  which  the  allies  had 
decided  should  be  restored  to  Italy,  he  proceeded  to  England, 
chiefly  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  the  Elgin  marbles,  of  which  he 
expressed  the  highest  admiration.  His  reception  in  that  country 
was  extremely  cordial,  and  was  a  subject  of  much  pleasure  to  him. 
On  his  return  to  Rome  he  received  a  patent  of  nobility,  and  was 
created  Marquis  of  Ischia.  With  a  republican  feeling  remarkable 
as  it  was  creditable,  he  never  adopted  this  title,  but  to  the  last 
called  himself  Antonio  Canova — a  far  preferable  name  than  the 
Marquis  of  Ischia  in  many  people's  estimation.  It  is  worthy  of 
remark  in  this  connection,  that  one  of  Canova's  best  works  was 
executed  for  America.  It  was  the  sitting  statue  of  Washington, 
in  marble,  executed  for  the  United  States,  and  forwarded  to 
America  in  1820. 

In  the  month  of  May,  1822,  Canova  went  to  Naples  to  inspect 
some  preparations  for  a  colossal  work,  and  returned  to  Rome  with 
a  tendency  to  disorder  in  his  stomach,  which  was  always  badly 


328  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ft 

affected  by  that  climate.  Not  having  entirely  recovered  from 
this  attack,  he  determined  on  a  visit  to  his  native  place,  and  on 
the  17th  of  September  arrived  at  Possagno.  Unfortunately,  the 
journey  was  too  severe  for  his  constitution,  and  aggravated  the 
complaint  under  which  he  labored.  He  was  very  ill  on  his  ar- 
rival, but  did  not  take  to  his  bed,  expecting  relief  from  his  na- 
tive air  and  the  waters  of  Recodro.  All  was  unavailing.  On 
the  4th  of  October  Canova  arrived  at  Venice,  intending  to  stay 
there  a  few  days ;  but,  continuing  to  get  gradually  worse,  he  re- 
ceived the  last  offices  of  religion,  and  resigned  himself  to  die  with 
the  utmost  constancy  and  serenity,  uttering  only  short  sentences 
of  a  pious  character  to  those  who  attended  him.  Approaching 
his  end,  he  said  to  those  who  moistened  his  dying  lips,  "  Good, 
very  good ;  but  it  is  in  vain."  His  last  words  were,  "  Pure  and 
lovely  spirit."  These  he  uttered  several  times  just  before  he  ex- 
pired. He  spoke  no  more ;  but  his  visage  became,  and  continued 
for  some  time,  highly  radiant  and  expressive,  as  if  his  mind  was 
absorbed  in  some  sublime  conception,  creating  powerful  and  un- 
usual emotions  in  all  around  him. 

Canova  was  a  man  of  the  most  amiable  and  conciliatory  man- 
ners, extremely  friendly  and  gentle  toward  his  fellow-artists,  and 
encouraging  and  liberal  toward  the  numerous  students  who  filled 
his  studio.  To  several  of  the  latter,  whose  means  were  scanty, 
he  gave  pensions,  to  enable  them  to  prosecute  their  studies.  He 
also  established  out  of  his  own  purse  a  handsome  premium  for 
sculpture  in  the  Academy  of  St.  Luke  at  Rome,  of  which  he  was 
president.  In  personal  appearance  Canova  was  rather  below  the 
common  stature,  and  toward  the  close  of  his  life  stooped  as  he 
walked.  His  features  were  strongly-marked,  but  well-formed, 
his  nose  aquiline,  and  his  eyes  deeply  set  and  full  of  expression. 
The  general  expression  of  his  countenance  was  genial  and  pleas- 
ing- . 

Concerning  the  merit  of  his  works,  a  competent  critic  remarks 
that,  in  execution  and  the  whole  treatment  of  his  marble,  Canova 
was  unrivaled ;  but  those  who  judge  of  sculpture  by  the  pure 
principles  o£  Greek  art  (or,  in  other  words,  of  nature,  selected  and 
exhibited  in  its  finest  and  most  approved  forms),  will  discover  in 
many  of  his  works  some  affectation,  both  in  the  attitudes  and 
expression,  and  a  littleness  in  some  of  the  details,  which  are  not 
in  accordance  with  the  simplicity  and  breadth  of  style  of  the  best 


ANTONIO  CANOVA.  329 

productions  of  the  ancients.  Admitting  this  to  be  the  case  (par- 
ticularly in  some  of  his  later  performances),  still  his  works  evince 
so  great  a  progress  in  art,  and  in  many  respects  approach  so  much 
more  nearly  than  those  that  had  for  a  long  period  preceded  them 
to  the  excellence  of  ancient  sculpture,  that  Canova  must  be  con- 
fessed to  be  one  of  the  great  regenerators  of  the  art ;  and  his  name, 
as  the  restorer  of  a  purer  style  of  design,  will  always  be  held  in 
honor  by  those  who  wish  to  see  sculpture  practiced  upon  true 
principles. 


PHILIP   YAYRINGE. 

MECHANICAL  genius  of  a  high  order  is  a  gift  so  rare  in  the  world, 
that  the  few  men  who  have  possessed  it  in  an  eminent  degree  are 
certainly  worthy  of  remembrance.  The  subject  of  this  sketch, 
although  unknown  in  the  present  century,  was  in  his  day  con- 
sidered remarkable  enough  to  merit  the  appellation  of  the  Lotha- 
ringian  Archimedes.  Philip  Vayringe  was  a  native  of  Lorraine, 
born  in  1684  at  Nouilloupont,  a  small  village  which  is  situated 
in  the  department  of  the  Meuse,  between  Longwy  and  Verdun. 
He  was  one  of  a  large  ihmi  1  y.  and  at  an  early  age  experienced 
harsh  treatment  from  a  step-mother,  which  induced  him  to  run 
away  from  home.  It  was  his  intention  on  this  occasion  (he  was 
ten  years  old,  and  could  scarcely  spell  his  name  correctly)  to 
make  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome ;  but,  before  he  got  very  far  on  his 
way,  he  met  two  of  his  schoolfellows,  who  prevailed  on  him  to 
return  to  the  paternal  roof.  Philip,  however,  became  so  enam- 
ored of  the  town  of  Metz,  through  which  they  passed,  that  he 
gave  his  companions  the  slip,  and  made  up  his  mind  to  remain 
there.  Strolling  about  the  town,  he  was  first  attracted  by  the 
operations  of  a  locksmith,  who  sat  working  at  his  bench  near  the 
open  window.  Observing  the  youth's  curiosity,  the  artisan  spoke 
to  him,  asked  him  some  commonplace  questions,  and  finally  wound 
up  by  offering  to  take  him  into  his  employ  at  the  liberal  stipend 
of  tenpence  a  month.  Philip  accepted  the  terms  on  condition 
that  he  should  be  allowed  to  try  to  make  a  lock.  The  permission 
was,  of  course,  readily  granted,  and  he  succeeded  so  well  that  an 
addition  was  at  once  made  to  his  wage.  In  six  months  he  had 
become  so  familiar  with  the  business  that  he  found  no  difficulty 
in  getting  employment  at  three  times  the  price  paid  him  by  his 
first  master. 

In  the  following  winter  he  returned  to  Nouilloupont,  residing 
this  time  with  a  brother-in-law,  who  was  at  once  a  gunsmith  and 
edge-tool  maker.  Philip  was,  of  course,  useful  in  such  a  shop, 
but* a  circumstance  soon  occurred  which  diverted  his  attention 
from  the  fabrication  of  locks.  A  clock  was  brought  in  to  be  re- 


PHILIP  VAYRINGE.  331 

paired,  and  its  delicate  mechanism  filled  Philip  with  admiration. 
It  was  only  left  in  the  shop  for  an  hour  and  a  half,  but  in  this 
short  time  he  had  fixed  all  the  parts  in  his  mind,  and  knew  ex- 
actly on  what  principle  it  worked.  A  few  months  afterward  he 
made  a  successful  copy  of  this  clock,  much  to  the  astonishment 
of  the  simple  villagers.  He  was  now  determined  to  be  a  clock- 
maker,  and,  with  twenty-five  shillings  in  his  purse,  started  for 
Nancy,  the  capital  of  Lorraine.  There  was  but  one  clock-maker 
in  the  place,  and,  as  he  had  three  sons,  there  was  no  opening  for 
Philip.  He  was  fortunate,  however,  in  finding  a  friend  in  a  Pa- 
risian master  locksmith  and  worker  in  iron,  who  had  come  to  Nan- 
cy tQ  fabricate  a  highly-ornamental  gate  for  the  choir  of  the  Ben- 
edictine church.  This  person  having  shown  him  his  designs, 
Philip  requested  that  he  would  teach  him  how  to  draw  similar 
ones  with  a  pen,  and  carry  them  into  execution.  His  kind  friend 
immediately  offered  to  take  him  into  his  employ  at  a  salary  of 
ten  shillings  a  month,  and  to  give  him  all  the  instruction  in  his 
power.  He  was  thus  employed  for  twelve  months.  In  the  mean 
time,  he  did  not  forget  the  subject  of  horology.  His  employer 
possessed  the  unusual  treasure  of  a  watch,  so  valuable  in  those 
days  that  it  was  actually  the  first  Philip  had  seen.  Anxious  to 
penetrate  the  mystery  of  its  intricate  workings,  he  begged  permis- 
sion to  examine  it.  His  request  was  complied  with  by  his  kind 
friend,  who  seemed  to  place  implicit  confidence  in  the  ingenuity 
of  the  youth.  Philip  hurried  home  in  triumph,  and  in  no  time 
had  the  watch  to  pieces,  and  discovered  the  object  of  all  its  move- 
ments, making  drawings  of  those  which  he  could  not  sufficiently 
remember.  He  succeeded  in  putting  the  fragments  together  again, 
and  in  restoring  the  watch  to  its  owner  in  perfectly  good  condi- 
tion. The  result  of  his  various  investigations  was  an  extremely 
ingenious  clock,  which  he  made  in  his  leisure  moments,  and  for 
which  he  had  to  fabricate  tools.  It  was  nine  inches  in  height  and 
six  in  width,  and  had  four  different  movements :  hours,  quarters, 
striking,  and  chimes.  The  chimes  played  an  air  every  hour, 
while  the  image  of  the  Savior,  followed  by  the  twelve  apostles, 
passed  across  a  gallery.  Nearly  a  year  was  spent  in  forming  this 
complicated  piece  of  mechanism,  but  it  brought  him  much  renown, 
and,  better  still,  was  indirectly  the  means  of  procuring  him  a  very 
advantageous  wife,  a  charming  young  orphan  of  fourteen  (he  was 
twenty-seven),  with  two  thousand  dollars  in  cash.  They  lived 


332  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

long  and  happily  together,  and  did  the  state  some  service  by 
bringing  into  the  world  no  fewer  than  nineteen  children. 

About  a  year  after  his  marriage  he  started  in  business  on  his 
own  account.  His  shop  was  distinguished  by  a  sign  of  his  own 
invention,  which,  he  tells  us,  was  admired  as  a  masterpiece.  It 
was  probably  a  piece  of  mechanism,  but  he  has  left  us  no  descrip- 
tion of  its  character  or  appearance.  Having  borrowed  some  tools, 
he  immediately  set  about  making  a  watch,  similar  to  the  one  he 
had  borrowed  from  his  Parisian  friend  and  employer.  He  accom- 
plished his  task  successfully  in  eighteen  days.  Customers  soon 
became  numerous,  but  he  found  that  a  Parisian  reputation  was 
necessary,  and  he  determined,  therefore,  to  visit  the  capital  of 
France.  Furnished  with  letters  of  introduction  to  several  of  the 
most  important  watch  -  makers,  in  the  metropolis,  he  set  out. 
Many  men  would  have  deemed  a  limited  apprenticeship  desirable 
under  such  circumstances,  and  Vayringe  was  of  that  opinion,  but 
he  limited  the  apprenticeship  to  one  day ;  that  is  to  say,  he  re- 
quested a  person  to  whom  he  was  recommended  to  allow  him  to 
work  in  his  shop  for  a  single  day.  He  found  out  all  he  wanted 
in  that  time,  and,  having  visited  the  shops  of  the  most  eminent 
watch-lnakers,  purchased  tools  and  materials,  and  ateused  him- 
self with  contemplating  the  wonders  of  Versailles,  he  returned  to 
his  home  after  a  fortnight's  absence. 

The  first  thing  he  did  on  his  return  was  to  imitate  the  machin- 
ery he  had  seen  in  the  workshops  of  Paris,  adding  many  improve- 
ments of  his  own  which  were  of  obvious  utility.  His  reputation 
was  now  established,  and  business  pressed  in  upon  him  in  the 
most  satisfactory  manner.  With  increased  resources,  he  gave  free 
rein  to  his  invention,  and  indulged  in  the  fabrication  of  many  cu- 
rious machines  not  actually  useful  or  actually  useless.  Among 
other  things,  he  endeavored,  like  all  ingenious  men  of  his  time, 
to  solve  the  problem  of  perpetual  motion.  While  thus  occu- 
pied, he  succeeded  in  making  many  very  simple  movements,  and, 
"  among  others,  those  of  an  eight  -  day  clock  with  only  three 
wheels,  and  which  nevertheless  struck  the  hours  and  half  hours, 
and  repeated  them,  and,  besides,  indicated  the  revolution  and  the 
various  phases  of  the  moon."  He  finished,  also,  a  watch  which 
repeated  the  hours  and  quarters,  though  it  had  merely  the  wheels 
of  a  common  watch.  He  worked  likewise  at  all  sorts  of  mathe- 
matical instruments,  both  for  engineers  and  geographers. 


. 

PHILIP  VAYRINGE.  533 

•  In  1720  Vayringe  was  appointed  watch-maker  and  mechanist 
to  Duke  Leopold  of  Lorraine,  and  removed  from  Nancy  to  Lune- 
ville, the  capital  of  that  province.  Here  he  occupied  himself  not 
only  with  clocks  and  watches,  but  with  astronomical  instruments, 
and  several  models  of  hydraulic  machines,  the  simplicity  and  pow- 
erful action  of  which  were  much  praised.  One  of  the  models, 
that  of  a  machine  to  throw  five  jets  of  water  to  a  height  of  six- 
ty feet,  was  afterward  carried  into  effect  in  the  ducal  gardens  of 
Luneville.  In  the  year  1721  Vayringe  had  occasion  to  visit  the 
British  metropolis  on  business  for  the  duke,  and  became  an  in- 
mate in  the  house  of  the  celebrated  Desaguliers.  This  accidental 
circumstance  was  of  great  advantage  to  him,  and  he  improved  the 
occasion  with  avidity.  Desaguliers  taught  him  geometry  and  al- 
gebra, and  explained  minutely  the  properties  and  management  of 
all  the  instruments  and  machines  by  which  he  himself  illustrated 
his  annual  courses  of  experimental  philosophy.  More  than  this, 
he  caused  a  similar  apparatus  to  be  made  for  Vayringe.  After  a 
residence  of  thirteen  months  in  London  he  was  recalled  to  Lune- 
ville. The  duke  was  so  delighted  with  the  instruments  he 
brought  with  him,  that  he  gave  Vayringe  instructions  to  complete 
the  set  by  making  what  were  necessary  for  the  full  illustration 
of  a  complete  course  of  philosophy.  In  pursuance  of  this  order, 
Vayringe  produced  a  variety  of  works,  one  of  the  most  curious 
of  which  was  a  planisphere,  on  the  Copernican  system,  "  above 
which,"  says  he,  "  the  planets,  supported  by  steel  wires,  perform- 
ed their  courses,  according  to  the  calculations  of  the  most  cele- 
brated astronomers."  This  was,  in  fact,  a  kind  of  orrery,  an  in- 
strument which  had  been  shown  and  explained  to  him  by  Desa- 
guliers during  his  visit  to  the  English  capital,  and  which  was 
then  new  to  the  world  of  science.  The  duke  was  so  astonished 
by  this  masterpiece  of  ingenuity  that  he  considered  it  to  be  a 
worthy  present  for  the  emperor,  and  Vayringe  was  accordingly 
dispatched  with  it  to  Vienna.  The  emperor  was  equally  delight- 
ed, and  he  rewarded  the  maker  with  a  massy  gold  medal  and 
chain,  and  a  purse  containing  two  hundred  ducats. 

On  his  return  to  Luneville  he  found  M.  de  Boifranc,  architect 
of  the  King  of  France,  who  was  anxious  for  him  to  proceed  to 
Paris  to  superintend  the  construction  of  a  steam-engine  for  a 
mine  in  Peru.  When  this  important  job  was  finished,  he  returned 
to  Luneville,  and  employed  himself  in  the  manufacture  of  many 


334*  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

curious  philosophical  machines,  especially  an  orrery.  In  172{>, 
Duke  Leopold,  his  patron,  died,  and  for  a  time  some  of  his  most 
extensive  works»were  discontinued.  In  the  following  year  Leo- 
pold's successor  remodeled  the  Academy  of  Luneville,  and  ap- 
pointed Vayringe  professor  of  experimental  philosophy.  His  lec- 
tures immediately  attracted  much  attention,  and  were,  like  Duval's 
in  the  same  establishment,  largely  attended  by  foreigners.  His 
popularity  continued  undiminished  as  long  as  the  house  of  Lor- 
raine held  the  government  of  its  hereditary  dominions ;  but  in 
1737,  political  arrangements  between  France  and  the  emperor 
transferred  the  duchy  to  Stanislaus,  and  eventually  to  France, 
and  in  exchange  gave  to  the  duke  the  sovereignty  of  Tuscany. 
Despots  think  nothing  of  "  swopping"  whole  generations  of  men. 
"  I  was,"  says  Vayringe,  "  soon  a  witness  to  the  evacuation  of 
Lorraine.  I  saw  her  highness  the  Duchess  Regent,  and  the  two 
august  princesses,  her  daughters,  tear  themselves  from  their  pal- 
ace, their  faces  bathed  with  tears,  their  hands  raised  toward 
heaven,  and  uttering  cries  expressive  of  the  most  violent  grief. 
It  would  be  utterly  impossible  to  depict  the  consternation,  the 
regrets,  the  sobs,  and  all  the  symptoms  of  despair  to  which  the 
l>eople  gave  way  at  the  aspect  of  a  scene  which  they  considered 
us  the  last  sigh  of  the  country.  It  is  almost  inconceivable-  that 
hundreds  of  persons  were  not  crushed  under  the  wheels  of  the 
carriage,  or  trodden  under  the  feet  of  the  horses,  in  throwing 
themseves  blindly  as  they  did  before  the  vehicles  to  retard  their 
departure.  While  consternation,  lamentations,  horror,  and  con- 
fusion were  reigning  in  Luneville,  the  inhabitants  of  the  rural 
districts  hurried  in  multitudes  to  the  road  by  which  the  royal 
family  was  to  pass,  and,  throwing  themselves  on  their  knees, 
stretched  out  their  hands  to  them,  and  implored  them  not  to 
abandon  their  people."  Vayringe  accompanied  the  duke  to  his 
future  territories,  although  earnestly  entreated  to  remain  by  the 
new  sovereign  of  Lorraine.  It  was  an  unfortunate  step  for  him. 
In  Lorraine  mechanical  genius  was  appreciated  and  understood, 
but  in  Tuscany  no  one  cared  about  such  things.  The  Grand 
Duke  did,  indeed,  continue  his  patronage  to  the  artist,  but  his 
example  was  not  followed  by  his  court  or  his  subjects.  After  a 
miserable  sojourn  of  eight  years  in  his  new  home,  Vayringe  wrote 
in  the  following  melancholy  vein :  "  I  had  figured  to  myself,"  he 
says,  "  that  Tuscany  having  been,  as  it  were,  the  cradle  of  gen- 


PHILIP  VAYEINGE.  335 

uine  experimental  philosophy,  a  taste  for  that  science  would  have 
been  preserved,  as  in  the  time  of  the  Galileos,  Torricellis,  and 
the  Academy  del'  Cimento,  and  that,  consequently,  the  lectures 
which  I  had  delivered  at  Luneville  would  be  still  more  attractive 
at  Florence."  But  his  conjectures  were  erroneous ;  he  found  the 
young  men  addicted  to  gallantry,  the  ladies  to  coquetry,  and  every 
one  to  triviality,  not  unmixed  with  sensuality.  He  published  a 
syllabus  of  all  the  experiments  he  had  made  in  Lorraine,  but  the 
Florentine  public  paid  no  attention  to  it,  and  it  fell  dead.  "  It 
is  true,"  he  writes,  "  that  my.being  a  foreigner  contributed  in  no 
small  degree  to  this  indifference.  I  was  given  to  understand  that 
Italy,  in  all  ages,  had  possessed  the  privilege  of  teaching  other 
nations,  and  was  not  at  all  accustomed  to  take  lessons  from  them. 
It  may  with  truth  be  said  that  this  miserable  prejudice,  together 
with  the  spirit  of  trifling  and  parsimony  of  which  I  have  spoken, 
are  the  rocks  on  which  the  Academy  of  Lorraine  has  been  wrecked. 
Transferred  to  Tuscany  at  an  immense  expense,  and  having  the 
same  professors  who  had  rendered  it  so  flourishing,  it  has  there 
been  wholly  deserted.  The  school  of  experimental  philosophy, 
one  of  the  most  curious  and  complete  in  Europe,  has  shared  the 
same  fate,  though  the  cost  of  the  lectures  which  were  given  there 
was  reduced  to  less  than  half  the  sum  that  was  paid  at  Luneville. 
Thus  the  talent  for  mechanics  which  Providence  has  bestowed  on 
me  has  become  totally  useless  as  far  as  regards  the  public,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  indifference  of  my  new  fellow-citizens,  and  the 
state  of  inaction  in  which  they  have  left  me  to  stagnate." 

Circumstances  of  this  depressing  nature  were  too  much  for  the 
sanguine  temperament  of  an  inventor,  whose  imagination,  at  the 
best  of  times,  is  too  sensitive  and  warm.  He  became  careless  of 
himself,  like  all  dissatisfied  people,  and  felt  disposed  to  brave  all 
sorts  of  dangers.  On  one  occasion  he  was  indiscreet  enough  to 
expose  himself  to  the  deadly  malaria  of  that  pestiferous  district 
called  the  Maremma.  A  slow  fever  was  the  result,  which,  after 
eighteen  months'  duration,  ended  in  dropsy.  He  died  under  the 
effect  of  this  latter  disease  on  the  24th  of  March,  1746,  and  was 
buried  in  the  Barnabite  Church  at  Florence,  where  his  monument 
may  still  be  seen,  erected  by  his  friend  Duval.  "  Probity,  candor, 
and  the  most  ingenuous  simplicity,"  says  Duval,  "  characterized 
his  disposition,  and  they  may  be  said  to  have  beamed  upon  his 
countenance  and  in  all  his  actions." 


NATHANIEL    BOWDITCH. 

THE  subject  of  this  sketch  was  the  son  of  a  cooper,  and  was 
born  at  Salem,  Massachusetts,  March  26th,  1773.  At  an  early 
age  he  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  his  mother,  to  whom,  like  most 
men  of  eminence,  he  owed  much  that  was  good  and  beautiful  in 
his  nature.  He  was  only  ten  years  of  age  when  this  happened, 
and  previous  to  it  had  attended  school  for  a  short  time.  It  is 
related  that,  even  at  this  early  day,  he  displayed  a  remarkable 
aptitude  for  figures,  and  intuitively  performed  arithmetical  feats 
far  in  advance  of  his  studies*. 

When  little  more  than  ten  years  of  age  he  was  bound  appren- 
tice to  Messrs.  Ropes  &  Hodges,  who  were  ship-chandlers,  and 
while  in  their  service  always  kept  a  slate  and  pencil  by  his  side, 
so  that,  when  not  engaged  in  serving  customers,  he  could  pursue 
his  favorite  study.  Every  moment  that  he  could  call  his  own 
was  devoted  to  the  same  object.  He  rose  early,  and  went  to  bed 
late,  so  that,  by  thus  economizing  his  time,  he  was  able  to  make 
considerable  progress  in  the  mathematics.  The  labor  which  he 
cheerfully  undertook  to  make  himself  master  of  the  subject  was 


NATHANIEL  BOWDITCH.  337 

prodigious.  Most  of  his  books  he  borrowed  from  the  Salem 
Athenaeum,  and,  in  spite  of  dryness,  copied  them.  The  fruits 
of  his  diligence  still  exist  in  more  than  twenty  folio  and  quarto 
volumes.  He  did  not  allow  any  thing  to  impede  his  progress. 
That  he  might  read  Newton's  "Principia,"  he  learned  Latin,  the 
tongue  in  which  it  is  written,  and  so  with  the  French  language. 
With  these  two  powerful  auxiliaries,  he  translated  the  former 
elaborate  work,  and  the  extensive  one  of  La  Place. 

In  a  few  years  Mr.  Bowditch  became  known  as  an  extremely 
accomplished  man  of  science,  and  was  employed  with  another 
gentleman  to  make  a  thorough  survey  of  the  town  of  Salem. 
After  this  (1795)  he  was  induced  to  undertake  a  voyage  to  the 
East  Indies,  under  Captain  Prince.  The  vessel  returned  after  a 
year's  absence,  and  Bowditch  was  so  satisfied  with  the  voyage 
that  he  made  a  second,  third,  and  fourth  with  the  same  captain. 
The  leisure  which  this  occupation  afforded  him  was  doubtless  one 
of  its  charms,  for  he  was  able  not  only  to  prosecute  his  mathe- 
matical studies,  but  to  perfect  himself  in  several  languages,  the 
French  especially,  and  Italian,  Spanish,  and  Portuguese  to  a  great 
extent.  His  method  of  learning  a  language  was  peculiar.  He 
obtained  a  New  Testament  in  the  desired  language,  and,  with  the 
aid  of  a  Dictionary,  worked  through  it.  At  the  time  of  his  death 
he  possessed  New  Testaments  in  no  fewer  than  twenty-five  lan- 
guages, and  Dictionaries  of  a  still  larger  number.  He  was  by  no 
means  stingy  of  bis  knowledge,  but,  knowing  its  advantage,  tried 
to  diffuse  it.  Among  the  sailors  he  was  eminently  popular,  and 
made  the  ship  a  perfect  school  of  learning.  Slates  and  pencils 
were  in  great  demand,  and  conversations  like  the  following  are 
recorded :  "  Well,  Jack,  what  have  you  got?"  "I've  got  the  sine." 
"  That  ain't  right ;  /  say  it's  the  cosine."  According  to  Captain 
Prince,  there  were  twelve  men  on  board  capable  of  working  lunar 
observations  for  all  practical  purposes.  Bowditch's  habits  at  this 
time  have  been  described  very  accurately  by  a  companion.  "  His 
practice  was  to  rise  at  a  very  early  hour  in  the  morning,  and  pur- 
sue his  studies  till  breakfast ;  immediately  after  which  he  walked 
rapidly  for  about  half  an  hour,  and  then  went  below  to  his  studies 
till  half  past  eleven  o'clock,  when  he  returned,  and  walked  till  the 
hour  at  which  he  commenced  his  meridian  observations.  Then 
came  dinner,  after  which  he  was  engaged  in  his  studies  till  five 
o'clock ;  then  he  walked  till  tea-time,-  and  after  tea  was  at  his 


338  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

studies  till  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening.  From  this  hour  till  half 
past  ten  o'clock  he  appeared  to  have  banished  all  thoughts  of 
study,  and  while  walking  he  would  converse  in  the  most  lively 
manner,  giving  us  useful  information,  intermixed  with  amusing 
anecdotes  and  hearty  laughs,  making  the  time  delightful  to  the 
officers  who  walked  with  him,  and  who  had  to  quicken  their  pace 
to  accompany  him.  Whenever  the  heavenly  bodies  were  in  proper 
distance  to  get  the  longitude,  night  or  day,  he  was  sure  to  make 
his  observations  once,  and  frequently  twice  in  every  twenty-four 
hours,  always  preferring  to  make  them  by  the  moon  and  stars, 
on  account  of  his  eyes.  Pie  was  often  seen  on  deck  at  other  times 
walking  rapidly,  and  apparently  in  deep  thought ;  and  it  was  well 
understood  by  all  on  board  that  he  was  not  to  be  disturbed,  as 
we  supposed  he  was  solving  some  difficult  problem ;  and  when  he 
darted  below,  the  conclusion  was  that  he  had  got  the  idea.  If 
he  were  in  the  fore  part  of  the  ship  when  the  idea  came  to  him, 
lie  would  actually  run  to  the  cabin,  and  his  countenance  would 
give  the  expression  that  he  had  found  a  prize."  . 

The  nicety  of  Bowditch's  observations  enabled  him  to  detect 
many  error*  in  the  existing  books  on  navigation,  and  especially 
one  in  which  the  year  1800  was  set  down  as  a  leap-year.  The 
immediate  effect  of  this  error,  producing  a  difference  of  twenty- 
three  miles  in  the  reckoning,  was  to  cause  the  loss  of  many  vessels. 
The  publisher  of  the  work,  hearing  of  Mr.  Bowditch's  corrections, 
applied  to  the  young  navigator  for  assistance,  and  at  his  suggestion 
the  latter  undertook  the  laborious  task  of  revising  all  the  tables. 
In  this  operation  he  discovered  no  fewer  than  ten  thousand  errors. 
Concerning  some  of  these,  Mr.  Bowditch  remarks  that,  although 
they  would  not  seriously  affect  the  result  of  any  nautical  calcula- 
tion, yet,  since  most  of  the  tables  were  useful  on  other  occasions 
where  great  accuracy  was  needed,  it  was  not  useless  to  have  them 
corrected.  Such  a  fabulous  number  of  blunders  have  not  been 
common  since  Bowditch's  day. 

In  1802  Mr.  Bowditch  published  his  first  edition  of  the  "  Prac- 
tical Navigator,"  a  work  of  inestimable  value  to  the  maritime 
world,  and  which  is  still  used  to  a  great  extent  in  the  French  and 
English  navies.  It  gave  the  author  a  wide-spread  reputation, 
and  was  no  doubt  instrumental  in  directing  his  attention  to  the 
publication  of  other  scientific  works.  In  part  payment  for  his 
"  Navigator,"  Bowditch  received  a  copy  of  La  Place's  splendid 


NATHANIEL  BOWDITCH.  339 

Mecanique  Celeste,  a  work  with  which  our  author's  name  became 
closely  associated.  About  this  time  he  abandoned  the  sea  as  a 
profession.  He  had  a  reputation  to  rest  on,  and  had  been  hon- 
ored by  several  learned  societies.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Amer- 
ican Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences,  and  just  before  his  last  voy- 
age Harvard  University  conferred  upon  him  the  honorary  degree 
of  Master  of  Arts  (1802). 

Soon  after  ^the  close  of  his  seafaring  life,  Mr.  Bowditch  was 
chosen  president  of  the  Essex  Fire  and  Marine  Insurance  Com- 
pany, in  which  office  he  remained  nearly  twenty  years.  Mainly 
owing  to  his  good  and  practical  management,  the  shareholders 
were  able  to  secure  large  dividends  on  their  .investments.  "  For 
this  situation,"  says  one  of  his  biographers,  "his  affability,  regu- 
lar habits,  sagacity,  and  strict  integrity,  no  less  than  his  great 
scientific  attainments,  remarkably  fitted  him.  The  duties  he  had 
to  discharge  were  severe,  and  occupied  most  of  his  time,  but  his 
favorite  studies  were  never  neglected.  He  never  went  down  to 
the  office  without  a  volume  of  mathematics  in  his  pocket,  and  ev- 
ery moment  that  he  was  not  engaged  in  business  he  pored  over 
its  contents.  During  his  residence  at  Salem  he  contributed  twen- 
ty-three papers  to  the  several  volumes  of  the  Transactions  of  the 
American  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences.  Some  of  these  were 
on  mathematical  subjects,  but  the  majority  were  astronomical. 
On  the  preparation  of  these  he  expended  an  amount  of  labor 
which  even  an  enthusiast  may  contemplate  with  wonder.  On 
the  subject  of  the  orbit  of  the  comet  of  1811,  the  manuscript  vol- 
ume containing  his  calculations  (still  in  existence)  was  filled  with 
one  Jiundred  and  forty-four  pages  of  clo'sely- written  figures,  prob- 
ably exceeding  a  million  in  number.  The  article  itself  was  but 
twelve  pages  in  length.  Mr.  Bowditch  was  a  contributor  to  the 
Monthly  Anthology,  the  North  American  Review,  Silliman's  Jour- 
nal, the  Analyst  and  Mathematical  Diary.  He  also  wrote  several 
articles  for  the  American  edition  of  Rees'  Cyclopedia. 

We  have  already  referred  to  La  Place's  great  work,  Mecanique 
Celeste.  Bowditch's  admiration  for  this  masterly  production — 
describing  the  entire  mechanism  of  the  heavens  on  mathematical 
principles — was  so  complete  that  he  determined  on  translating  it, 
and  accompanying  it  with  a  copious  commentary.  The  varied 
accomplishments  required  for  the  latter  task  can  only  be  under- 
stood by  taking  a  comprehensive  glance  at  the  subjects  treated 


340  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

by  La  Place.  Some  of  them  are  as  follows :  The  laws  of  equilib-" 
rium  and  motion ;  the  law  of  universal  gravitation,  and  the  mo- 
tions of  the  centres  of  gravity  of  the  heavenly  bodies ;  the  figures 
of  the  heavenly  bodies  deduced  theoretically,  and  then  compared 
with  the  actual  observations  made  of  the  figures  of  the  earth  and 
the  planet  Jupiter ;  the  oscillations  of  the  sea  and  the  atmos- 
phere ;  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies  about  their  own  cen- 
tres of  gravity ;  the  theory  of  the  planetary  motions,  and  their 
inequalities  and,  perturbations  ;  the  theory  of  comets;  light,  and 
the  theory  of  astronomical  refractions,  etc.,  etc.  The  work  was 
declared  by  Professor  Playfair  to  be  an  Example  "  solitary  in  the 
history  of  human  knowledge,  of  a  theory  entirely  complete;  one 
that  has  not  only  accounted  for  all  the  phenomena  that  were 
known,  but  that  has  discovered  many  before  unknown,  which  .ob- 
servation has  since  recognized.  To  translate  a  work  of  this  kind, 
and  to  write  a  commentary  on  it,  was  a  task  of  prodigious  labor, 
and  required  powers  and  attainments  of  the  highest  order."  Dr. 
Bowditch  used  to  say,  "  Whenever  I  meet  in  La  Place  with  the 
words  'Thus  it  plainly  appears,'  I  am  sure  that  hours,  and  per- 
haps days  of  hard  study,  will  alone  enable  me  to  discover  how  it 
plainly  appears." 

It  was  the  object  of  the  translator  to  elucidate  the  difficult 
demonstrations  by  supplying  the  deficient  steps,  and  carrying  the 
processes  still  farther,  if  necessary ;  and  to  continue  the  work  to 
the  present  time,  so  as  to  put  the  reader  in  full  possession  of  all 
the  recent  "  improvements  and  discoveries  in  mathematical  sci- 
ence." He  accomplished  this  truly  Herculean  task,  and  placed 
the  great  work  before  the  "public  in  a  luminous  and  perfectly  in- 
telligible shape.  On  almost  every  page  the  notes  exceeded  the 
text ;  indeed,  these  have  in  themselves  a  value  almost  equal  to 
the  original  matter.  They  are  thoroughly  critical,  and  examine 
the  truth  without  any  blind  adherence  to  La  Place's  version  of 
it.  Some  idea  of  the  pains  bestowed  on  the  work  may  be  formed 
from  the  fact  that  it  was  not  published  until  twelve  years  after 
the  translation  was  completed.  It  appeared  at  last — four  quarto 
volumes  of  a  thousand  pages  each ;  the  fifth  volume  of  the  orig- 
inal work  was  never  translated. 

In  1823  Dr.  Bowditch  (he  was  made  a  doctor  by  Harvard  Uni- 
versity in  1816)  accepted  an  engagement  in  Boston  as  actuary  to 
the  Massachusetts  Hospital  Life  Insurance  Company.  On  his 


NATHANIEL  BOWDITCH.  341 

departure  from  Salem  he  received  a  public  demonstration  of  re- 
gard and  admiration,  and^n  his  new  home  was  selected  for  many 
offices  of  distinction  and  trust.  He  remained  in  Boston  to  the 
time  of  his  death,  which  occurred  on  the  16th  of  March,  1838,  in 
the  sixty-fifth  year  of  his  age. 

Dr.  Bowditch  was  twice  married,  and  left  a  widow,  a  devoted 
and  admirable  woman,  who  contributed  in  no  small  degree  to  the 
doctor's  energy  of  purpose  and  ultimate  fame.  To  her  memory 
he  dedicated  the  translation  and  commentary  of  La  Place's  great 
work. 

The  doctor  was  a  diligent  man,  and  eminently  methodical.  He 
was  able  to  accomplish  great  tasks  with  ease,  mainly  owing  to 
these  qualifications.  He  was  always  careful  of  his  health,  and 
never  neglected  taking  a  due  amount  of  physical  exercise.  Men 
of  studious  habits  are  too  apt  to  overlook  the  requirements  of  the 
body  in  their  eagerness  to  cultivate  the  mind.  He  was  the  re- 
cipient of  many  honors  and  degrees.  In  1806  he  was  elected 
Professor  of  Mathematics  in  Harvard  University ;  in  1818  he 
was  requested  by  Mr.  Jefferson  to  take  the  same  office  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Virginia ;  in  1820  Mr.  Calhoun  offered  him  the  vacant 
professorship  of  Mathematics  at  West  Point.  The  American 
Philosophical  Society  admitted  him  as  a  member  in  1809 ;  the 
Connecticut  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences  in  1813;  the  Liter- 
ary and  Philosophical  Society  of  New  York  in  1815  ;  the  Edin- 
burgh Royal  Society  in  1818  ;  and  the  Royal  Irish  Society  in 
1819.  After  the  translation  of  La  Place's  work  he  was  chosen  a 
member  of  the  Royal  Astronomical  Society  of  London,  the  Royal 
Academy  of  Palermo,  and  the  Royal  Academy  of  Berlin. 

Dr.  Bowditch  left  a  very  valuable  library,  which  is  still  pre- 
served unbroken,  and  placed  at  the  disposal  of  the  public  by  Dr. 
Bowditch's  family  in  Boston. 


VALENTINE  JAMERAI   DUVAL. 

DDVAL,  whose  history  is  perhaps  the  most  romantic  of  any  in 
this  volume,  was  born  at  the  little  village  of  Artonnay,  in  Cham- 
pagne, some  time  in  1695.  His  parents  were  in  an  extreme  state 
of  poverty,  and  before  he  was  ten  years  of  age  he  had  the  misfor- 
tune to  lose  his  father.  To  contribute  in  some  small  degree  to 
the  sustenance  of  his  mother's  family  now  became  an  object  of 
the  utmost  importance.  On  a  neighboring  farm  he  obtained  the 
privilege  of  looking  after  the  turkeys,  for  which  he  obtained  a 
small  remuneration.  It  was  not  till  he  was  fourteen  that  Duval 
had  an  opportunity  of  obtaining  the  faintest  rudiments  of  an  edu- 
cation. He  then  learned  the  alphabet.  When  he  was  fourteen  he 
ceased  to  be  a  watcher  of  turkeys,  the  agricultural  distress  which 
prevailed  rendering  it  necessary  for  the  farmers  to  pursue  a  system 
of  the  strictest  economy.  To  add  to  the  troubles  of  the  period 
(1709),  a  winter  of  unprecedented  severity  set  in.  Such  was  its 
arctic  rigor  that  the  courts  of  justice  were  closed,  the  sacramental 
offices  were  suspended,  from  the  impossibility  of  keeping  fluid  the 
wine  which  was  used,  and  numbers  of  even  the  strongest  trav- 
elers were  struck  dead  upon  the  high  roads.  In  such  a  cruel 
winter  the  poor  were  exposed  to  the  most  frightful  hardships, 
and  even  those  whose  circumstances  were  not  actually  indigent 
experienced  many  pressing  wants.  Young  Duval  was  unwilling 
to  become  a  burden  on  his  poor  mother  at  such  a  season,  and, 
friendless  and  helpless, .  went  forth  in  the  bitter  wind  to  procure 
shelter  and  food  among  the  villages  and  hamlets  of  Champagne. 
For  several  days  he  continued  his  dreary  way,  nearly  frozen  and 
famished,  when  suddenly  he  was  attacked  by  an  excruciating 
pain  in  the  head.  It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  he 
struggled  to  a  small  farm-house  which  he  observed  in  the  dis- 
tance. Arrived  there,  he  begged  that  he  might  be  permitted  to 
rest  his  limbs  in  an  out-house.  A  female  servant  took  compas- 
sion on  him,  and  led  him  into  a  buildin*  where  the  sheep  were 
kept.  In  the  morning  the  farmer  discovered  the  poor  boy  in  a 
most  deplorable  condition.  He  was  in  a  burning  fever,  and  angry 


VALENTINE  JAMEBAI  DUVAL.  343 

pustules  had  made  their  appearance  on  different  parts  of  his  body. 
The  farmer  knew  the  symptoms,  and  bluntly  declared  that  Duval 
was  laboring  under  an  attack  of  small-pox,  assuring  him  also,  by 
way  of  consolation,  that  it  would  infallibly  kill  him.  Although 
rough  and  uncultivated,  he  was  a  good-hearted  man,  and  did  more 
for  the  little  patient  than  might  have  been  expected,  considering 
the  fearful  nature  of  the  disease,  and  the  alarm  it  is  apt  to  occa- 
sion. He  procured  a  bundle  of  rags,  stripped  off  the  boy's  cloth- 
ing, and. wrapped  him  up  in  the  rags  like  a  mummy.  Having 
done  this,  he  took  off  several  layers  of  dung  from  a  heap,  and  in 
the  warm  place  thus  created  made  a  purely  agricultural  bed, 
placed  the  patient  on  it,  strewed  chaff  on  him,  covered  him  up  to 
the  neck  with  the  layers  which  he  had  taken  off,  and  then  con- 
cluded by  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  the  boy,  whom  he  rec- 
omended  to  God  and  the  saints,  believing  that  it  would  be  little 
else  than  a  miracle  if  he  escaped  death. 

Duval's  biographer  thinks  that,  rude  as  were  the  bed  and  the 
chamber  where  the  youth  lay,  they  were  perhaps  more  beneficial 
to  him  than  any  he  could  have  found  in  the  farmer's  humble  abode. 
The  fermenting  of  the  dung  and  the  breath  of  a  flock  of  sheep 
diffused  a  warmth  which  he  would  not  elsewhere  have  enjoyed, 
and  which  brought  on  a  profuse  perspiration.  The  virus  of  the 
disease  was  thrown  out  to  the  surface  instead  of  being  repelled 
into  the  vital  parts.  While  he  was  lying  helpless,  he  was  exposed 
to  one  annoyance  from  his  fellow-lodgers.  The  sheep  would  lick 
his  face.  He  did  his  best,  he  says,  to  avoid  these  cruel  caresses, 
less  on  his  own  account  than  in  the  fear  that  the  poison  with 
which  he  was  covered  might  be  hurtful  to  the  poor  sheep.  He 
did  not  then  know  that  the  poison  of  the  small-pox  is  reserved 
for  the  human  family  alone.  He  was  exposed  to  other  troubles 
even  more  dangerous.  The  place  in  which  he  was  sheltered  was 
overhung  with  large  trees.  Often  in  the  dead  of  night  he  was 
aroused  by  loud  reports  as  of  cannon  or  thunder.  When  he  in- 
quired what  had  occasioned  these  strange  sounds,  he  was  informed 
that  the  intensity  of  the  frost  had  rent  many  of  the  trees  to  the 
rdots,  and  caused  them  to  "  go  off"  in  the  way  mentioned,  scat- 
tering huge  fragments  on  the  place  where  lay  the  poor  boy.  The 
crisis  passed,  he  slowly  recovered,  receiving  to  the  last  all  the 
little  attentions  which  his  kindly  host  could  bestow  on  him.  In- 
expensive as  was  his  food  and  lodging,  they  were  more  than  the 


344  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

impoverished  farmer  could  bear.  When  he  had  sufficiently  re- 
covered, he  was  reluctantly  compelled  to  tell  his  guest  that  he 
could  no  longer  support  him.  He,  however,  found  him  a  tem- 
porary asylum  by  applying  to  the  parish  priest,  and  with  this 
functionary  Duval  remained  until  the  extreme  severity  of  the 
weather  had  abated,  and  his  health  was  completely  restored.  It 
was  then  hinted  that  he  must  provide  for  himself. 

Past  sufferings  had  taught  him  that  one  of  the  greatest  calami- 
ities  a  poor  man  could  encounter  was  cold.  When  he  left  the 
priest's  house,  he  asked  hi  what  direction  were  warmer  lands, 
and  being  told  that  to  the  east  the  sun  exercised  more  power,  he 
resolved  to  bend  his  course  to  the  eastward.  His  ideas  concern- 
ing the  earth  and  the  sun  were  of  the  most  primitive  kind ;  the 
former  he  believed  to  be  a  plane,  bounded  by  the  horizon  and  sup- 
porting the  heavens ;  the  latter,  which  he  had  always  seen  repre- 
sented with  a  human  face,  was  an  animated  and  intelligent  being, 
moving  at  a  small  distance  from  the  ground,  and  dispensing  light 
and  heat.  With  these  ideas  in  his  mind,  and  with  the  most  gen- 
erous and  appreciative  feelings  toward  the  sun,  he  took  his  de- 
parture in  an  easterly  direction.  He  passed  through  districts 
stricken  with  famine  and  oppressed  with  the  most  horrible  pov- 
erty—districts in  which  it  was  mockery  to  ask  for  charity,  and 
which  could  yield  nothing  but  herbs  and  roots  for  the  hungered 
boy.  When  he  reached  the  boiling  springs  of  Bourbonne  les 
Bains,  the  spectacle  of  hot  water  issuing  from  a  cold  earth  so 
alarmed  him  that  he  seriously  believed  he  was  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  infernal  regions,  and  fled  the  town  with  precipitation. 

In  the  flourishing  duchy  of  Lorraine,  the  scene  changed  as  if 
by  magic ;  the  people  were  well  clad,  and  of  cheerful,  healthy 
countenances  ;  the  houses  were  commodious  and  solidly  built, 
and  the  soil  was  carefully  tilled  and  richly  productive.  Charmed 
with  these  external  indications  of  prosperity,  and  with  the  beauty 
of  the  country,  Duval  wished  to  stay  in  a  land  so  genial  and  happy. 
He  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  situation  as  a  shepherd-boy,  and  for 
two  years  pursued  that  pastoral  life.  During  the  time  he  made 
the  acquaintance  of  a  hermit  named  Brother  Palemon,  who  lived 
at  the  hermitage  of  La  Rochelle.  With  this  recluse  Duval  now 
took  up  his  residence,  assisting  him  in  his  rural  labors,  and  mak- 
ing himself  generally  useful.  Palemon  was  a  kind-hearted,  devout 
man,  who  respected  God's  gifts  to  man.  In  a  very  little  time  he 


VALENTINE  JAMERAI  DUVAL.  345 

discovered  that  Duval  was  blessed  with  a  mind  which  craved 
knowledge  and  could  digest  it.  He  encouraged  and  assisted 
him,  and  placed  him  on  the  road  to  fame  by  imparting  to  him 
the  rudiments  of  an  education.  At  the  end  of  twelve  months 
Duval  was  forced  to  leave  this  worthy  old  man,  the  superiors 
•f  his  order  having  sent  another  brother  to  reside  with  him  in 
D aval's  place.  PalemOn  parted  from  the  youth  with  regret,  and 
gave  him  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the  hermits  of  St.  Anne, 
whither  he  proceeded. 

The  hermits  of  St.  Anne  were  four  in  number,  aged  men,  of 
virtuous  hearts  and  kind  dispositions,  indulgent  to  others,  austere 
only  to  themselves.  Their  subsistence  and  the  means  of  dispens- 
ing charity  were  derived  from  the  cultivation  of  twelve  acres  of 
land,  partly  planted  with  fruit-trees,  and  from  six  cows.  In  the 
management  of  their  farm  it  was  thought  that  Duval  might  find 
some  kind  of  employment,  and  he  was  not  disappointed.  His 
opportunities  for  obtaining  knowledge  were  thus  preserved.  One 
of  the  hermits  undertook  to  teach  him  to  read,  and  ^rom  a  book 
which  he  found  in  the  hermitage  he  obtained  a  smattering  of 
arithmetic.  His  chief  employment  was  not  intellectual,  tending 
cattle  in  the  woods,  but  it  was  favorable  to  the  reflective  disposi- 
tion of  Duval.  From  the  earliest  days  astronomy  has  been  in- 
debted to  shepherd-boys  for  much  of  its  just  interpretation.  Du- 
val's  mind  soon  became  deeply  interested  in  the  contemplation  of 
the  heavens.  He  had  seen  in  almanacs  that  on  such  a  day  the 
sun  would  enter  the  sign  of  the  Ham  or  the  Bull,  and  imagining 
that  there  must  be  some  clusters  of  stars  resembling  those  ani- 
mals, he  began  to  look  for  them.  He  constructed  a  rude  observ- 
atory in  the  forest  on  the  top  of  the  tallest  oak  he  could  find,  but 
his  untutored  eyes  gazed  on  the  starry  field  without  result.  He 
was  about  to  give  up  his  astronomical  inquiries  in  despair,  when 
a  lucky  chance  put  him  on  the  right  road.  He  was  fortunate 
enough  to  procure. half  a  dozen  maps  of  the  constellations,  the 
world,  and  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe.  With  these  he  soon 
learned  the  relative  places  of  the  constellations ;  but,  to  render 
this  knowledge  useful,  he  had  yet  to  find  out  a  fixed  point  in  the 
heavens  to  serve  as  a  basis  for  his  proceedings.  He  had  heard  it 
said  that  the  polar  star  was  the  only  star  of  our  hemisphere  which 
had  no  apparent  motion  ;  but  where  to  find  this  star  ?  His  first 
plan  was  to  pick  out  a  star  of  the  proper  magnitude,  and  then 

P  2 


346  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

bore  a  hole  immediately  opposite  it  to  observe  if  it  changed  its 
position.  He  next  hollowed  out  a  piece  of  elder  so  as  to  make 
a  tolerably  straight  tube,  and,  suspending  this  rude  telescope  to  a 
branch  of  a  tree,  made  observations  through  it  until  he  discover- 
ed the  exact  position  of  the  polar  star.  It  was  now  easy  for  him, 
with  the  aid  of  his  map,  to  become  acquainted  with  all  the  prin- 
cipal stellar  groups  of  the  northern  hemisphere.  The  immensity 
into  which  he  thus  penetrated  filled  him  with  awe  and  surprise 
to  such  an  extent  that  for  a  time  he  was  compelled  to  desist,  lest 
his  reason  should  be  overthrown.  From  the  study  of  the  skies 
Duval  turned  to  the  study  of  the  earth,  and  thus  brought  into 
use  the  remaining  maps  of  his  collection.  He  was  a  long  time 
before  he  could  understand  the  various  lines  and  figures  which 
are  so  important  in  works  of  this  kind ;  but  a  friend  loaned  him 
an  Introduction  to  Geography,  and  by  the  help  of  this  guide, 
and  perpetual  reference  to  his  maps,  which  he  always  took  out 
with  him,  he  made  such  rapid  advances  that  "  the  knowledge  of 
the  globe  beearue  almost  as  familiar  to  him  as  that  of  the  forest 
of  St.  Anne." 

The  appetite  for  knowledge  was  now  thoroughly  aroused.  All 
his  scanty  means  were  devoted  to  the  purchase  of  books,  and  he 
devised  means  to  add  to  his  available  funds  for  this  purpose.  He 
set  snares  for  the  wild  animals,  and  sold  their  skins  to  a  furrier 
at  Luneville,  and  he  caught  birds,  which,  he  says,  contributed  to 
his  instruction  by  the  loss  of  their  liberty.  Hares,  too,  would 
occasionally  come  in  his  way,  although  they  were  not  allowed  to 
do  so  by  law.  In  these  hunting  excursions  he  was  often  exposed 
to  danger,  and  on  one  occasion  a  wild-cat  fixed  her  teeth  and  tal- 
ons so  deeply  in  his  head  that  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty 
he  could  release  himself  and  dispatch  the  brute.  He  did  not 
regret  the  wounds,  for  the  skin  brought  a  good  price.  In  a  few 
months  he  amassed  a  small  fortune  of  thirty  or  forty  crowns, 
and  with  a  joyful  heart  carried  his  treasure  to  Nancy  to  purchase 
books.  Of  their  value  he  knew  nothing,  but  he  had  confidence 
in  human  honesty,  and,  when  he  entered  the  shop,  said  to  the 
bookseller,  "You  will  have  the  goodness  not  to  charge  me  too 
much,  for  I  am  very  poor,-and  want  to  get  all  the  books  I  can." 
There  was  only  one  bookseller  in  Nancy  who  did  not  cheat  him ; 
all  the  others  took  advantage  of  his  simplicity.  The  honest  trades- 
man supplied  him  on  equitable  terms,  and  even  gave  him  credit 


VALENTINE  JAMERAI  DUVAL.  347 

for  twenty  shillings'  worth  of  goods.  When,  in  after  years,  Duval 
asked  this  worthy  man  why  he  was  induced  to  place  so  much  con- 
fidence in  a'stranger,  he  replied,  "Your  countenance  and  your  love 
of  study.  I  saw  in  your  face  that  you  would  not  deceive  me." 
Honesty  met  with  its  reward,  for  Duval  procured  for  this  worthy 
man  the  appointment  of  bookseller  to  the  Duke  of  Lorraine. 

He  had  now  a  few  books  which  he  studied  devoutly.  An  inci- 
dent occurred  which  enabled  him  to  greatly  add  to  their  number. 
Strolling  in  the  forest  one  day,  he  observed  some  shining  article 
lying  on  the  ground.  It  proved  to  be  a  gold  seal  of  curious  work- 
manship, evidently  dropped  by  accident.  On  the  following  Sun- 
day he  caused  the  priest  at  Luneville  to  announce  publicly  that 
this  article  was  in  his  possession,  so  that  the  owner  might  apply 
for  it.  A  few  weeks  afterward  a  gentleman  on  horseback  came 
to  the  hermitage,  and  desired  to  speak  with  him.  He  was  an 
Englishman,  and  bluntly  stated  that  the  seal  was  his.  "Very 
good,  sir,"  replied  Duval ;  "  but,  before  I  give  it  up  to  you,  I 
must  request  that  you  will  blazon  the  arms  which  are  engraved 
on  it."  The  Englishman  laughed  at  the  idea  of  such  a  rough- 
looking  customer  knowing  any  thing  of  heraldry.  Duval,  who 
had  made  himself  master  of  the  science  by  reading  one  of  Mcne- 
shier's  works,  coolly  answered,  "  You  may  think  what  you  please, 
but  the  ring  does  not  go  out  of  my  possession  until  you  have  regu- 
larly described  the  coat  of  arms."  The  Englishman,  whose  name 
was  Foster,  put  various  questions  to  him,  and,  finding  that  the 
youth  was  well-informed,  gave  the  correct  heraldic  description, 
and,  of  course,  obtained  the  seal.  Duval  was  rewarded  with  a 
couple  of  Louis  d'or,  and  Foster  was  so  much  pleased  with  the 
lad,  that,  so  long  as  he  remained  in  Lorraine,  he  had  him  to  break- 
fast on  every  holiday  morning,  made  him  a  present  of  five  shillings 
each  time,  and  gave  him  much  good  counsel  as  to  the  choice  of 
books  and  maps,  and  the  method  of  studying  to  advantage.  His 
library  prospered  exceedingly  under  these  circumstances,  and 
numbered  nearly  four  hundred  volumes,  all  of  which  were  exten- 
sively thumbed.  His  devotion  to  study  at  length  excited  the 
alarm  of  one  of  the  hermits,  Father  Anthony,  who  gravely  ex- 
horted him  to  renounce  all  human  science,  and  content  himself 
with  the  life  of  a  devout  recluse.  Duval,  of  course,  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  this  advice,  and  Brother  Anthony,  interpreting  his  obsti- 
nacy by  the  blue  light  of  superstition,  began  to  suspect  that  his 


348  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

studies  were  of  an  extremely  improper  character,  and  determined 
to  find  out  what  they  were.  He  took  advantage  of  the  youth's 
absence  to  enter  his  chamber,  and  the  sight  he  beheld,  papers 
scrawled  with  geometrical  signs,  and  curious  instruments  glitter- 
ing in  the  sunshine,  confirmed  him  in  all  his  worst  suspicions. 
He  was  certain  now  that  young  Duval  was  on  the  high  road  to 
perdition,  and  in  direct  communication  with  the  Prince  of  Dark- 
ness. Full  of  this  idea,  he  hurried  off  to  his  confessor,"  and  told 
such  a  frightful  story  that  the  confessor  felt  it  a  religious  duty  to 
visit  the  youth.  When  he  discovered  the  true  state  of  the  case, 
he  laughed  at  Brother  Anthony,  and  encouraged  the  young  man 
to  persevere  in  his  studies/  Brother  Anthony  took  the  matter 
much  to  heart,  and,  like  all  ignorant  men,  felt  incensed  that 
things  were  taking  place  beneath  his  nose  which  he  could  not 
understand.  His  anger  broke  out  »at  last,  and  he  threatened 
Duval  that  he  would  take  away  his  books  and  tear  up  his  maps. 
The  threat  roused  Duval,  and  he  defied  the  brother.  The  hermit 
advanced  toward  him,  apparently  intending  to  give  him  a  box  on 
the  ear.  Still  more  enraged  by  this  threatening  gesture,  Duval 
seized  a  fire-shovel,  and  brandished  it  over  the  head  of  the  aston- 
ished hermit.  He  took  to  his  heels,  and  Duval  secured  the  door 
of  his  chamber,  prepared  for  the  worst.  The  clamor  and  excite- 
ment had  drawn  all  the  brothers  to  the  garden,  and  there  they 
stood  beneath  Duval's  window  waiting  for  a  parley.  Duval  ad- 
dressed the  superior,  who  listened  to  him  patiently,  and  then  im- 
partially blamed  Brother  Anthony  for  his  blind  zeal,  and  Duval 
for  having  allowed  his  irritated  feelings  to  obtain  the  mastery. 
A  capitulation  was  dictated  by  Duval,  and  agreed  to  by  the 
brothers.  He  required  an  amnesty  for  his  indecorous  burst  of 
rage,  and  to  be  allowed  two  hours  daily  for  his  studies,  except  at 
seed,  harvest,  and  vintage  times ;  in  return  for  which  he  would 
willingly  serve  them  during  ten  years,  "with  all  imaginable  zeal 
and  affection,"  and  expect  nothing  more  for  his  services  than  food 
and  clothing.  These  terms  were  acceded  to,  and  on  the  following 
day  Duval  had  the  agreement  regularly  drawn  up  by  a  lawyer, 
and  signed  by  all  the  contracting  parties. 

He  was  not  destined  to  fulfill  his  portion  of  this  contract.  On 
the  13th  of  May,  1717,  he  was  tending  cattle  in  the  forest,  and 
beguiling  the  time  with  his  favorite  study  of  geography.  While 
busily  employed  with  his  maps  and  books,  a  gentleman  approached 


VALENTINE  JAMERAI  DUVAL.  349 

him,  and  inquired  what  he  was  doing.  "I  am  studying  geogra- 
phy, and  finding  out  the  shortest  way  to  Quebec."  "  For  what 
reason  ?"  "  That  I  may  travel  thither,  and  continue  my  studies 
in  the  University  of  that  city,  which,  1  am  told,  is  well  conducted." 
"  But,"  replied  the  stranger,  "  what  necessity  is  there  for  you  to 
travel  to  the  other  end  of  the  world,  when  there  are  Universities 
at  hand  which  are  equally  good  as  that  of  Quebec  ?"  In  the  midst 
of  this  dialogue  they  were  joined  by  two  youths,  another  gentle- 
man, and  a  train  of  attendants.  The  youths  were  the  Princes  of 
Lorraine ;  the  gentlemen  were  the  Baron  de  Pfutschner  and  the 
Count  de  Vidampierre,  the  latter  of  whom  was  the  person  who 
had  been  talking  to  the  rustic  of  St.  Anne's.  It  reads  like  the 
scene  of  a  play,  but  it  was  no  fiction,  as  he  soon  found  out.  The 
baron  volunteered  to  place  Duval  in  the  Jesuits'  College,  but  this 
offer  was  rejected.  In  a  few  days  he  returned  to  say  that  the 
duke  would  take  Duval  under  his  protection,  and  furnish  him 
with  the  means  of  pursuing  his  studies.  This  was,  of  course,  too 
desirable  an  opportunity  to  be  neglected.  He  closed  with  the 
offer,  and  was  immediately  conveyed  to  the  court  at  Luneville, 
where  his  literary  acquirements  excited  much  curiosity.  From 
Luneville  he  removed  to  Pont-k-Mousson,  where  he  recommenced 
his  untiring  search  for  knowledge.  Geography,  history,  and  an- 
tiquities were  his  favorite  subjects  of  inquiry,  but  he  neglected 
nothing.  Working  on  a  methodical  plan,  and  with  judicious  ad- 
visers to  guide  his  steps,  he  added  greatly  to  his  stock  of  ideas. 
It  is  curious  to  note  how  strangely  mingled  with  gross  ignorance 
were  his  best  accomplishments.  Thus  it  is  related  that  he  was 
smitten  with  a  violent  passion  for  a  beautiful  female,  which  so 
tormented  him  that  he  ate  a  large  quantity  of  hemlock  to  allay  it, 
that  being  the  nostrum  recommended  by  St.  Jerome  as  an  antidote 
to  love.  He  suffered  severely  from  this  act  of  imprudence,  and, 
indeed,  came  near  losing  his  life  by  it. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  year  1718  the  Duke  of  Lorraine  visited 
Paris,  and  in  his  suite  was  Duval.  During  his  stay  at  this  place 
the  latter  paid  a  visit  to  the  Opera-house,  and  witnessed  the  repre- 
sentation of  Quinault's  opera  of  "  Isis."  The  effect  produced  upon 
his  mind  by  the  music,  scenery,  and  acting  was  so  powerful,  that 
for  several  days  he  could  think  of  nothing  else.  Such  wholeness 
and  completeness  seemed  little  else  than  magical,  and  the  memory 
of  it  deprived  him  of  the  power  of  eating  and  sleeping.  After 


350  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

leaving  Paris  he  visited  the  Netherlands  and  Holland,  returning 
to  Luneville  late  in  the  following  year.  The  duke  now  appointed 
him  his  librarian,  but  the  post  was  one  of  honor  rather  than  profit, 
for  the  duke  was  wretchedly  poor.  On  the  death  of  Leopold  in 
1729,  his  successor,  Francis  Stephen,  made  an  addition  of  two 
hundred  livres  to  Duval's  stipend,  and,  what  was  even  better, 
paid  it  punctually.  Soon  after  he  bestowed  on  him  the  appoint- 
ment of  professor  of  history  j  antiquities,  and  ancient  and  modern 
geography  in  the  Academy  of  Luneville.  It  was  with  difficulty 
that  Duval  was  induced  to  accept  this  appointment.  He  yielded 
at  last,  and  set  strenuously  to  work  to  make  his  lectures  worthy 
of  approbation,  and  with  such  decided  success  that  in  a  little 
while  he  had  so  many  private  pupils  that  he  could  count  on  a 
clear  annual  gain  of  four  thousand  livres.  Among  his  hearers 
was  William  Pitt,  afterward  Earl  of  Chatham,  then  a  youth 
upon  his  travels,  but  who  displayed  such  talents  that  his  future 
greatness  was  more  than  once  predicted  by  Duval. 

Duval's  simple  habits  enabled  him  to  amass  a  considerable  for- 
tune out  of  his  income,  and  the  first  use  he  made  of  it  was  to  dis- 
charge what  he  considered  a  debt  of  gratitude.  He  rebuilt,  in  a 
handsome  style,  the  hermitage  of  St.  Anne,  and  added  to  it  a  chapel 
and  an  extensive  piece  of  land.  Part  of  this  land  he  directed  to 
be  laid  out  as  a  nursery  for  fruit-trees  of  the  best  kind.  For  this 
benefit,  the  only  return  that  he  required  was  that  the  hermits 
should  -gratuitously  supply  the  neighborhood  for  three  leagues 
round  with  the  produce  of  the  nursery,  and  should  go  themselves 
to  plant  the  trees  whenever  their  assistance  was  wanted.  Dur- 
ing the  remainder  of  his  life  he  displayed  the  same  interest  in  the 
hermitage,  regarding  it  as  the  gateway  through  which  he  had 
passed  to  fortune  and  distinction. 

In  1743,  after  many  changes  in  the  duchy  of  Lorraine,  Duval 
was  called  to  Vienna  by  the  Grand-duke,  husband  of  the  celebrated 
Maria  Theresa,  and  in  the  Austrian  capital  he  spent  nine  months, 
returning,  after  that  time,  to  Florence,  where  his  old  patrons  now 
resided.  Beneath  the  soft  skies  of  Italy  his  time  glided  away 
happily,  passed,  for  the  most  part,  in  studying,  cultivating  a  small 
garden,  and  making  occasional  journeys  to  Rome  and  Naples.  In 
the  Eternal  City  all  his  old  love  of  the  antique  revived,  and  he 
began  to  form  a  cabinet  of  ancient  medals.  In  1748  he  received 
a  summons  from  his  royal  master  to  take  up  his  residence  at 


VALENTINE  JAMERAI  DUVAL.  351 

Vienna.  Francis,  then  Emperor  of  Germany,  was  forming  a 
cabinet  of  coins,  and  desired  that  Duval  should  take  charge  of  it. 
The  appointment  was  much  to  his  liking,  and  he  devoted  himself 
to  its  duties  with  the  greatest  assiduity.  The  simplicity  and  nat- 
ural independence  of  his  character  endeared  him  to  the  royal 
household ;  he  was  received  as  a  friend,  and  had  no  irksome  cer- 
emonies imposed  on  him.  The  entire  confidence  of  the  emperor 
and  empress  was  manifested  in  the  following  year  by  their  offer- 
ing him  the  honorable  situation  of  sub- preceptor  to  the  young 
Archduke  Joseph.  Duval,  however,  declined  to  accept  it,  on  the 
ground  that  the  immethodical  manner  in  which  he  had  pursued 
his  own  studies  rendered  him  unfit  for  dictating  a  course  to  oth- 
ers. Duval  persisted  in  his  refusal  to  accept  the  post  proffered 
to  him,  and  his  sincerity  induced  his  patrons  to  withhold  their 
entreaties  without  withdrawing  any  of  their  friendship.  That 
the  latter  was  genuine  is  illustrated  in  the  following  anecdote, 
which  we  hope  is  authentic :  One  day,  a  foreigner,  who  had  a  let- 
ter of  introduction  to  Duval,  was  in  vain  attempting  to  find  him 
in  the  labyrinth  of  the  palace,  when  he  was  accosted  by  a  person, 
who  said,  "  Come  with  me,  and  I  will  show  you  the  way."  After 
many  turnings  and  windings,  the  person  opened  the  door,  and 
called  out,  "  Duval,  I  have  brought  somebody  to  see  you."  This 
obliging  guide  was  the  emperor.  On  another  occasion  the  em- 
press displayed  an  equal  contempt  of  ceremonious  forms.  It  was 
Carnival  time,  and  there  was  to  be  a  grand  masked  ball.  The 
empress  invited  Duval  to  her  apartment,  and  prevailed  upon  him 
to  assume  the  garb  of  a  Turkish  dervis,  having  previously  made  a 
wager  with  the  emperor  that  there  would  be  a  character  at  the 
ball  whose  incognito  he  could  not  penetrate.  "  Come,  Duval," 
she  said,  gayly,  "I  hope  you  will  at  least  dance  a  minuet  with 
me."  "I,  your  majesty  !"  exclaimed  he;  "in  my  native  woods 
I -never  learned  any  thing  more  graceful  than  turning  heel«  over 
head."  The  empress  laughed  heartily ;  they  entered  the  ball- 
room, and,  though  the  emperor  did  his  best  to  discover  who  was 
the  dervis,  he  lost  his  wager. 

In  1752  Duval  was  forced  to  suspend  his  literary  and  antiqua- 
rian labors.  Intense  application  had  made  serious  inroads  on  his 
health,  and  his  physicians  advised  a  tour.  He  traveled  through 
various  parts  of  Germany  and  the  Netherlands,  and  then  visited 
Paris,  where  he  met  with  a  hospitable  reception  from  all  the  lit- 


352  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

erary  characters  of  the  day.  On  his  return  he  passed  through 
his  native  province  of  Champagne,  and  availed  himself  of  many 
opportunities  of  showing  a  kindly  remembrance.  In  Lorraine, 
also,  he  rebuilt  the  hermitage  of  St.  Joseph  de  Messui,  originally 
erected  by  the  founder  of  St.  Anne's,  and  which  was  now  inhab- 
ited by  the  hermit  who  had  first  taught  him  the  rudiments  of 
reading  and  writing. 

The  remainder  of  his  days  were  passed  blamelessly  amid  books, 
medals,  conversations,  correspondences,  and  other  kindred  occupa- 
tions. Duval  was  the  author  of  various  numismatic  catalogues — 
works  requiring  an  unusual  amount  of  exact  antiquarian  knowl- 
edge ;  also  of  three  volumes  of  letters  and  fragments,  and  two  un- 
published works — the  one  a  treatise  on  medals,  the  other  a  phil- 
osophical romance.  He  remained  in  firm  health  until  his  eighti- 
eth year,  when  he  was  attacked  with  a  painful  disease  which  over- 
threw his  hearty  constitution,  and  brought  him  to  the  brink  of 
the  grave.  He  rallied  for  a  while,  but  the  shock  proved  too  se- 
vere, and  on  the  third  of  November,  1775,  he  died,  in  the  eighty- 
first  year  of  his  age.  By  his  will  he  left  the  interest  of  eleven 
thousand  florins  to  be  divided  yearly,  as  a  marriage  portion, 
among  three  poor  young  girls  of  Vienna ;  a  pension  to  a  widow, 
with  whom  he  had  boarded ;  and  annuities  to  his  servant  and 
a  deserted  child,  whom  the  servant  had  found  in  the  street  and 
taken  under  liis  protection. 


CHAKLES  DICKENS. 

IN  the  minds  of  a  good  many  excellent  critics  this  illustrious 
gentleman  represents  the  genius  of  modern  fiction.  A  structure 
of  wonderful  comprehensiveness  and  beauty  is  upheld  on  his  braw- 
ny shoulders,  and  future  generations,  they  say,  will  point  to  it  as 
to  the  mighty  ruins  of  the  Parthenon,  saying  here  is  a  guide  and 
a  study.  A  writer  so  curiously  varied  and  fresh  as  Mr.  Dickens 
provokes  naturally  a  vast  amount  of  exaggerated  admiration. 
The  most  discreet  find  it  difficult  to  assign  him  a  place.  He 
shoots  out  so  strangely  in  every  direction,  and  yet  possesses  such 
a  wonderful  power  of  concentration,  that  we  are  always  liable  to 
say  too  much  or  too  little  of  his  powers.  One  thing  is  certain, 
the  world  has  produced  but  few  men  of  Mr.  Dickens's  calibre, 
lie  belongs  incontestably  to  the  same  order  of  genius  as  Shak- 
speare,  Fielding,  and  Sir  Walter  Scott.  It  would  not  be  utterly 
absurd  to  say  that  in  some  particulars  he  is  superior  to  either  of 
these  illustrious  officers  of  the  legions  of  literature,  nor  would  it 
be  difficult  to  prove  that  in  many  things  "he  is  their  inferior.  The 
best  established  fact  that  can  be  mentioned,  and  one  which  bears 


354  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

its  own  significance,  is  that  he  has  given  a  distinctive  character 
to  the  age  in  which  he  wrote.  It  has  been  Mr.  Dickens's  pleas- 
ant task  to  originate  a  peculiar  kind  of  fiction,  and  his  good  for- 
tune to  create  the  appetite  for  it.  We  say  a  peculiar  kind  of  fic- 
tion because  an  analysis  of  his  works  displays  the  fact  that  he 
never  touches  the  bad  without  making  us  grieve  for  its  badness, 
never  whispers  the  truth  without  making  us  glory  in  its  triumph. 
With  a  sensibility  which  is  almost  divine  he  searches  out  the  hid- 
den springs  of  charity  and  refreshes  us  with  their  genial  flow  be- 
fore we  well  know  that  we  have  been  touched  with  the  rod  of  the 
magician.  No  human  creature  ever  was  or  ever  will  be  so  vile 
but  good-will  in  some  shape  clings  about  his  heart ;  whether  it  be 
for  man,  or  beast,  or  inanimate  thing,  it  is  there,  and  Mr.  Dick- 
ens, with  his  witty  springes,  his  pathetic  pitfalls,  his  eloquent 
lunges,  his  humorous  shafts,  is  sure  to  take  it  captive,  and  once 
in  his  glowing  embrace  escape  is  impossible  until  what  is  good 
becomes  better.  The  secret  of  Mr.  Dickens's  enormous  popular- 
ity is  to  be  found  in  this  circumstance.  We  all  think  we  are 
very  good  creatures,  and  Mr.  Dickens  makes  us  feel  that  we  are 
becoming  better.  It  is  a  pleasant  thought,  and  travels  from  pole 
to  pole  of  constituted  society. 

Mr.  Charles  Dickens  is  now  (1858)  in  his  forty-sixth  year,  hav- 
ing come  into  this  world,  which  he  has  much  comforted  with  his 
genial  genius,  on  the  15th  of  February,  1812,  at  Landport,  Forts- 
mouth.  His  father  was  employed  at  the  time  in  the  naval  estab- 
lishment, and,  when  the  war  ceased,  was  rewarded  with  a  pen- 
sion, on  which,  like  a  sensible  man,  he  retired.  Being  a  person 
of  considerable  talent  and  education,  he  gravitated  naturally  to 
London,  and  soon  after,  feeling  the  lack  of  some  kind  of  employ- 
ment, and  perhaps  finding  his  half-pay  insufficient  for  metropoli- 
tan life,  obtained  a  situation  to  report  the  debates  in  Parliament 
for  the  "  Chronicle,"  on  the  staff  of  which  paper  he  continued  for 
several  years. 

Concerning  the  early  education  of  Mr.  Charles  Dickens  we  have 
no  information.  It  was  his  father's  wish  that  he  should  adopt 
the  law  as  a  profession,  and  it  is  said  that  the  future  novelist  was 
actually  articled  to  an  attorney,  but  for  how  long  he  devoted  his 
attention  to  Blackstone  and  Chitty  we  know  not.  From  an  early 
period  his  inclinations  were  to  the  press,  and  he  set  himself  to 
the  task  of  learning  short-hand  in  order  that  he  might  the  more 


CHARLES  DICKENS.  355 

readily  obtain  a  footing  in  a  newspaper  office.  Reporters  were 
then  neither  so  numerous  or  expert  as  they  are  now,  and  from 
the  facility  with  which  the  senior  Dickens  had  obtained  a  posi- 
tion on  a  first-class  paper  Mr.  Charles  Dickens  augured  hopefully 
of  his  own  chances.  He  was  self-taught  in  the  art  of  short-hand 
writing.  "  I  bought,"  he  says,  "  an  approved  scheme  of  the  no- 
ble art  and  mystery  of  stenography  (which  cost  me  ten  and  six- 
pence), and  plunged  into  a  sea  of  perplexity  that  brought  me  in  a 
few  weeks  to  the  confines  of  distraction.  The  changes  that  were 
run  upon  dots,  which  in  one  position  meant  such  a  thing,  and  in 
another  position  something  else  entirely  different ;  the  wonderful 
vagaries  that  were  played  by  circles  ;  the  unaccountable  conse- 
quences that  resulted  from  marks  like  flies'  legs ;  the  tremendous 
effects  of  a  curve  in  the  wrong  place — not  only  troubled  my  wak- 
ing hours,  but  reappeared  before  me  in  my  sleep.  When  I  had 
groped  my  way  blindly  through  these  difficulties,  and  had  master-  . 
ed  the  alphabet,  which  was  an  Egyptian  temple  in  itself,  there 
then  appeared  a  procession  of  new  horrors,  called  arbitrary  char- 
acters— tho  most  despotic  characters  I  have  ever  known — who 
insisted,  for  instance,  that  a  thing  like  the  beginning  of  a  cobweb 
meant  expectation,  that  a  pen-and-ink  sky-rocket  stood  for  disad- 
vantageous. When  I  had  fixed  these  wretches  in  my  mind,  I 
found  that  they  had  driven  every  thing  else  out  of  it ;  then  be- 
ginning again,  I  forgot  them ;  while  I  was  picking  them  up  I 
dropped  the  other  fragments  of  the  system — in  short,  it  was  al- 
most heart-breaking." 

But  the  triumph  came,  and  in  due  time  Dickens  found  him- 
self with  a  note-book  in  his  hand  and  a  pocketful  of  pencils,  as 
the  representative  of  a  paper  called  "  The  True  Sun."  It  was 
not  a  very  flourishing  concern,  and,  at  the  first  opportunity,  Mr. 
Dickens  transferred  his  services  to  the  "Morning  Chronicle," 
where  the  peculiar  clearness  and  force  of  his  reports  were  justly 
appreciated.  Simply  to  convey  other  people's  ideas  to  the  read- 
ing public  was  not  the  destiny  that  Mr.  Dickens  had  proposed  to 
himself.  He  felt  that  he  could  do  more,  and  that  he  had  the  gift 
to  address  the  world's  mind  in  his  own  person.  Like  most  young 
writers  who  possess  the  power  of  observation  he  commenced  his 
literary  career  with  a  series  of  sketches,  afterward  known  as 
"  Sketches  by  Boz."  They  were  published  in  the  evening  edition 
of  the  "  Chronicle,"  and  at  once  attracted  public  attention.  There 


356  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

was  a  breadth  and  vigor  in  the  delineations,  a  heartiness  and  gusto, 
which  was  new  to  the  reading  classes.  The  sketches  were  filled 
with  ridiculous  ideas  and  many  exaggerations  leading  to  an  ex- 
cessively spasmodic  and  far-fetched  kind  of  fun,  but  these  draw- 
backs were  not  the  defects  of  a  common  man,  but  rather  the  ex- 
uberant wild-growth  of  a  fancy  unusually  alive  to  impressions  of 
a  humorous  nature.  In  looking  for  characters,  too,  Dickens  to- 
tally abandoned  the  perfumed  boudoirs  of  the  Minerva  press,  and 
went  among  the  people— even  vulgar  people — and  found  truth, 
if  not  inspiration.  A  cry  was  at  once  raised  that  his  tastes  were 
vulgar,  and  it  enjoyed  a  considerable  popularity  for  some  years. 
It  is  not  heard  very  often  now. 

The  exaggerated  humor  and  local  breadth  of  the  sketches  were 
such  that  their  success  was  prodigious,  and  a  publishing  house — 
Chapman  and  Hall — waited  on  the  young  author  and  proposed  a 
new  literary  serial  to  illustrate  a  collection  of  sporting  prints  de- 
signed by  Mr.  Seymour,  an  eminent  pencil  humorist.  In  this 
work  it  was  intended  to  approach  the  novel  form  in  a  free  and 
easy  way,  so  that  the  literary  interest  of  a  tale  might  blend  with 
the  sporting  unction  of  the  illustrations  without  absorbing  too 
much  of  their  interest. 

The  suicide  of  Mr.  Seymour  left  the  author  entirely  to  his  own 
judgment,  and  the  reader  of  the  "  Pickwick  Papers"  will  not  fail 
to  notice  the  steady  improvement  which  characterizes  the  work 
as  it  progresses.  The  early  chapters  abound  in  absurd  situations, 
and  the  principal  characters  are  little  better  than  wild  burlesque 
exaggerations.  As  we  proceed,  however,  the  actors  stand  forth 
more  luminously,  and  the  scenes  change  to  the  actual  realities  and 
places  of  life.  The  wonderful  graphic  power  of  the  author  begins 
to  manifest  itself,  and  we  feel  the  pressure  of  his  large  humane 
hand,  the  pulsations  of  his  big  heart,  and,  we  may  add,  the  sting 
of  his  trenchant  ridicule.  A  manner  of  writing  so  novel  attract- 
ed universal  attention,  and  the  "  Pickwick  Papers"  were  in  all 
hands.  No  recent  work  had  created  half  so  much  of  a  sensation. 
Even  now,  when  most  of  the  jokes  of  the  redoubtable  Sam  Weller 
have  become  thoroughly  staled,  the  work  retains  much  of  its  orig- 
inal attractiveness.  A  curious  and  remarkable  fact  connected 
with  this  first  work  of  Mr.  Dickens  is  that  even  in  the  wild  and 
unconnected  pages  of  ".Pickwick"  he  aimed  at  an  object,  and  di- 
rected his  batteries  against  the  Fleet  Prison,  which  soon  crumbled 
beneath  the  operation. 


CHARLES  DICKENS.  357 

It  was  while  the  "  Pickwick  Papers"  were  in  progress  that  Mr. 
Dickens  took  unto  himself  a  wife.  The  lady  was  Miss  Caroline 
Hogarth,  daughter  of  Mr.  George  Hogarth,  a  celebrated  musical 
writer  and  critic,  and  a  man  of  mention  in  literary  circles.  Mr. 
Hogarth  had  been  a  lawyer  in  Edinburgh,  and  enjoyed  the  friend- 
ship of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  Lord  Jeffrey,  and  other  distinguished 
literary  men.  The  lady  is  still  Mrs.  Dickens  in  name,  but  we  re- 
gret to  say  no  longer  occupies  the  honored  position  of  head  of  Mr. 
Dickens's  household.  An  unhappy  combination  of  circumstances 
has  recently  (1858)  led  to  an  estrangement  between  the  couple, 
and  they  live  apart,  although  not  legally  divorced.  Rumors  of  a 
cruel  character  have  been  circulated  to  the  disadvantage  of  Mr. 
Dickens — the  world,  as  is  usual  in  such  cases,  espousing  the  cause 
of  the  lady — but,  if  we  may  be  permitted  to  judge  of  his  actual 
feelings  by  the  tone  of  the  cards  he  has  published  on  the  subject, 
we  certainly  should  not  be  tempted  to  regard  the  matter  in  a 
grave  light,  but  rather  to  attribute  the  estrangement  to  one  of 
those  unhappy  flights  of  humor  which* even  in  households  of 
long  standing,  are  not  unfrequent.  The  plea  of  incompatibility 
of  temper,  after  twenty-five  years  of  married  life  and  a  family  of 
eight  children,  sounds  strangely,  and  can  mean,  we  hope,  nothing 
of  very  frightful  import.  Publicity,  in  a  case  of  this  kind,  is  the 
thing  most  to  be  dreaded.  Its  direct  tendency  is  to  widen  any 
unhappy  breach  that  may  exist,  and  to  agglomerate  round  each 
extreme  a  party  hostile  to  the  other.  As  the  most  prominent 
writer  of  England,  and  a  man  whose  genial  philanthropy  has 
made  him  conspicuous,  Mr.  Dickens  is  peculiarly  exposed  to  the 
shafts  of  envy  and  malice.  Few  men  have  lived  so  long  and  done 
so  much  without  exciting  the  uncharitableness  of  their  contem- 
poraries. It  is  not  remarkable  that,  now  the  bare  opportunity 
has  arrived,  the  finger  of  scorn,  however  mean  and  dirty,  is  point- 
ed at  him.  The  grievance,  it  has  been  stated,  is  of  long  standing, 
but  Mr.  Dickens  treats  it  with  forbearance,  and  the  least  we  can 
do  is  to  imitate  his  example.  Mrs.  Dickens's  sister  is  now  the 
head  of  the  author's  household. 

Mr.  Dickens's  second  work  was  "  Nicholas  Nickleby,"  in  which 
he  made  a  ferocious  attack  on  Yorkshire  schools,  and  succeeded 
in  bringing  them  into  ill  favor.  These  schools  were  generally 
situated  in  some  remote  county,  and,  by  reason  of  their  inaccessi- 
bility, were  safe  places  of  keeping  for  the  poor  helpless  little  crea- 


358  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

lures  who  were  sent  there.  ''Heartless  parents,  who  found  their 
unloved  ones  too  much  in  the  way,  sent  them  to  these  vile  places, 
where  they  were  taken  care  of  with  much  less  kindness  than  they 
would  have  received  in  the  penitentiary  as  culprits.  It  frequent- 
ly happened  that  they  died  beneath  the  treatment.  Escaping  this 
blessed  relief,  they  served  out  their  term  of  imprisonment,  and  with 
faculties  benumbed  with  hardship,  went  their  way  into  the  world 
degraded  and  friendless.  There  are  many  such  schools  even  in 
the  present  day,  but  their  worst  features  were  modified  by  the 
publicity  excited  by  Mr.  Dickens.  The  cruel  meanness  and  in- 
difference of  parents  and  guardians  are,  we  fear,  beyond  the  cura- 
tive reach  of  literature. 

The  novel  materially  increased  the  author's  reputation,  espe- 
cially with  the  better  class  of  readers.  In  its  construction  it  is 
far  superior  to  "  Pickwick,"  and  freer  from  comic  exaggerations, 
although  developing  a  wonderful  range  of  individualities,  and 
knowledge  of  character.  The  Yorkshire  schoolmasters  were  great- 
ly incensed  at  the  character  of  Squeers,  forgetting  that  their  indig- 
nation stamped  the  veracity  of  the  portrait.  One  individual,  in 
particular,  who  happened  to  have  but  one  eye,  and  resembled 
Squeers  physically  as  well  as  mentally,  even  went  so  far  as  to 
threaten  the  author  with  an  action  at  law.  In  "Nicholas  Nickle- 
by"  we  have  the  first  of  those  amusing  dashes  at  theatrical  life 
which  have  so  often  delighted  Mr.  Dickens's  readers.  For  the 
stage  and  its  members  Mr.  Dickens  has  always  had  a  warm  regard, 
and  of  late  years  he  has  often  appeared  in  public  in  company  with 
other  literary  amateurs.  It  is  conceded  on  all  hands — and  most 
cordially  by  those  who  are  best  able  to  form  an  opinion — that  he 
is  an  actor  of  rare  ability.  Probably  there  are  some  worthy  man- 
agers of  the  CEUMMLES  kind  who  have  a  different  opinion. 

The  first  ambition  of  a  successful  novelist  is  to  become  the  ed- 
itor of  a  literary  magazine.  Creative  minds  of  all  kinds  expe- 
rience the  same  desire,  and  the  cause  is  to  be  traced  to  that  gen- 
eral facility  which  all  active  minds  enjoy,  and  which  leaves  more 
to  be  said  than  can  be  compassed  within  the  limits  of  a  novel  or 
of  any  one  beaten  track.  The  monthlies  in  those  days  were  de- 
voted to  the  big-wiggery  of  criticism,  and  were  stilted  and  pom- 
pous to  a  degree.  An  awful  sanctity  prevailed  in  their  columns, 
a  fearful  amount  of  correct  vigor  in  their  opinions,  and  more  or 
less  of  respectable  dullness  in  every  thing  they  contained.  They 


CHARLES  DICKENS.  359 

were  not,  as  now,  the  vehicles  of  the  best  literature  of  the  day, 
although  their  articles  were  certainly  the  best  written.  Learning 
rather  than  observation  characterized  their  tone.  They  were 
sharp,  brilliant,  and  witty,  because  it  was  considered  low  to  be 
genial,  humorous,  and  observant.  A  good  number  was  that  which 
most  resembled  a  porcupine  in  the  number  and  delicacy  of  its 
points.  With  the  beadledom  of  such  publications  Mr.  Dickens 
could  have  no  sympathy.  However  much  they  might  excite  his 
respect,  they  could  not  win  his  admiration.  Either  he  was  too 
low  or  they  were  too  high,  and  he  determined  that  the  public 
should  decide.  The  experiment  was  made,  and  "  Bentley's  Mis- 
cellany," of  which  he  became  editor,  obtained  at  once  an  immense 
circulation  and  a  character  and  standing  of  its  own  which  it  has 
never  lost.  It  was  in  this  magazine  that  Mr.  Dickens  published 
"Oliver  Twist,"  issuing  it  in  monthly  parts,  with . illustrations 
by  George  Cruickshank.  No  other  work  of  the  author  deals  so 
largely  with  the  lower  classes.  The  story  is  of  the  intensest 
kind,  and,  in  an  artistic  point  of  view,  it  may  be  regarded  as  one 
of  the  author's  best  successes.  "  Never  before,"  says  a  critic, 
"  were  so  much  dirt,  vice,  and  depravity  so  completely  exposed, 
and  yet  so  cleanly  trodden  under  foot.  The  author  passes  through 
u  very  pest-house  without  a  breath  of  contagion." 

After  the  completion  of  "  Oliver  Twist,"  Mr.  Dickens  gave  up 
the  editorship  of  "Bentley's  Miscellany,"  discovering  in  all  proba- 
bility that  the  dry  drudgery  of  the  position  was  too  much  of  a 
restraint  on  his  creative  powers.  The  reins  passed  into  the  hands 
of  Mr.  Harrison  Ainsworth,  who,  in  the  effort  to  follow  in  the 
footsteps  of  Mr.  Dickens,  commenced  the  well-known  story  of 
"  Jack  Sheppard,"  a  work  in  which  vice  became  attractive.  This 
work  enjoyed  a  dreadful  popularity  for  a  few  months.  It  was 
dramatized  extensively.  There  was  not  a  thief  in  London  who 
did  not  find  his  way  to  the  gallery  of  the  theatre.  The  flash 
songs  with  which  the  thing  abounds  became  the  national  music 
of  Roguesville,  and  were  yelled  by  men,  women,  and  children.  In 
a  word,  the  scamps  of  London  had  a  perfect  prgie  on  this  delec- 
table production  of  Mr.  Harrison  Ainsworth's  genius.  In  due 
time,  however,  public  taste  recovered  its  healthy  action.  "Jack 
Sheppard"  was  viewed  in  its  proper  light  as  an  extremely  vicious 
sensation  novel,  calculated  to  fling  a  halo  round  the  gallows,  and 
make  every  bold  thief  think  that  he  was  a  hero.  People  began  to 


360  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

notice  how  vastly  different  was  Mr.  Dickens's  treatment  of  char- 
acters equally  vile,  how  thoroughly  different  the  argument  which 
the  work  enforced.  Mr.  Ainsworth's  "Jack  Sheppard,"  which 
was  intended  to  destroy  Mr.  Dickens  on  his  own  ground,  simply 
contributed  to  the  latter  gentleman's  reputation. 

Although  Mr.  Dickens  had  discovered  that  a  monthly  form  of 
periodical  was  not  the  thing  for  him,  he  was  still  anxious  to  place 
himself  at  the  head  of  a  serial  of  some  sort.  Not  only  would  it 
form  a  convenient  channel  for  much  miscellaneous  matter,  but  in 
the  end  it  might  prove  a  valuable  property.  We  know  now  that 
in  this  effort  he  has  succeeded,  and  that  in  "  Household  Words" 
he  is  surrounded  by  a  set  of  writers  who  imitate  his  style  go  close- 
ly that  if  he  does  not  actually  write  an  article  once  in  a  month  it 
is  scarcely  noticed ;  but  it  was  only  after  three  hard  and  perse- 
vering efforts  that  he  succeeded  in  hitting  the  public  taste.  The 
circumstances  attending  the  first  we  have  already  narrated.  After 
resigning  the  editorship  of  "  Bentley's,"  his  second  attempt  was 
made  on  his  own  account.  This  was  "Master  Humphrey's 
Clock,"  which,  in  its  original  shape,  was  a  weekly,  and  intended 
to  contain  short  tales,  essays,  communications,  etc.  The  plan  was 
found  to  be  obsolete,  and  after  a  few  numbers  Mr.  Dickens  com- 
menced his  exquisite  story  of  the  "  Old  Curiosity  Shop,"  which, 
in  a  short  time,  absorbed  the  weekly  issue,  and  left  the  public 
nothing  to  regret.  On  its  conclusion,  Mr.  Dickens's  first  histori- 
cal story  of  another  period,  "Barnaby  Eudge,"  was  commenced, 
a  tale  of  astonishing  power,  which  contributed  in  a  large  measure 
to  the  reputation  of  the  author. 

On  its  conclusion  Mr.  Dickens  made  that  celebrated  trip  to 
America,  which  resulted  in  the  publication  of  a  volume  of  "Notes." 
He  was  received  with  great  favor,  and  among  all  classes  of  people 
was  fairly  idolized.  It  is  probable,  even,  that  he  was  "  bored"  by 
the  excessive  generosity  of  his  reception.  Whatever  the  impres- 
sion, he  gave  it  honestly  in  his  "  Notes,"  and  has  stuck  by  it  man- 
fully to  the  present  day,  notwithstanding  an  immense  loss  of  pop- 
ularity in  this  country  and  also  in  Europe.  It  is  useless  and 
stupid  to  think  that  a  man  shall  think  our  way  simply  because  we 
feast  him,  and  still  more  absurd  to  attribute  mean  and  interested 
motives  to  him  because  we  can  account  for  his  strictures  in  no 
other  way.  Much  that  is  offensive  in  Mr.  Dickens's  book  is 
merely  so  because  it  is  placed  in  an  absurd  European  light,  not 


CHARLES  DICKENS.  361 

because  it  is  untrue  in  the  abstract.  After  all,  however,  it  was 
a  cruel  shock  to  find  that  the  man  we  approached  with  such  con- 
fident love  should  turn  round  on  us  and  utter,  truly  or  not,  so 
many  harsh  things.  That  he  did  so  was  an  indication  that  he 
felt  himself  under  a  business  necessity  to  write  a  book,  and,  per- 
haps, of  making  it  as  scandalous  as  possible.  The  piquant  relish 
with  which  Miss  Martineau's  volume  had  been  received  some 
time  before  was  yet  new  to  the  trade.  There  was  room  for  some- 
thing more  of  the  same  sort,  and  Mr.  Dickens  was  indiscreet 
enough  to  supply  the  demand.  The  blemishes  which  destroy  the 
interest  of  the  book  for  an  American  reader  are  much  to  be  re- 
gretted, for  it  contains  passages  of  great  beauty,  and  there  are  bits 
of  graphic  description,  purely  American,  that  have  rarely  been 
equaled. 

Mr.  Dickens  made  farther  use  of  his  American  experience  in 
the  novel  of  "  Martin  Chuzzlewit,"  and  contributed  a  good  petard 
to  the  hoisting  of  the  villainous  land-swindles  which  were  then 
much  in  vogue.  This  work  belongs  to  what  may  be  termed  Mr. 
Dickens's  second  period,  and  deals  in  the  minute  delineation  of 
character  rather  than  the  development  of  an  intense  plot.  It  en- 
joyed an  immediate  success,  and  was  allowed  on  all  hands  to  be 
the  most  elaborate  and  finished  of  the  author's  productions.  The 
characters,  or  at  least  a  part  of  them,  have  become  household 
words.  If  we  are  told  that  such  a  man  is  a  regular  Pecksniff, 
we  know  all  that  we  wish  to  know  about  him,  and  bestow  our 
pity  on  the  inevitable  Tom  Pinch  who  we  are  quite  sure  is  in  the 
neighborhood  to  be  sponged  on.  Bailey  Junior,  and  Sarah  Gamp, 
with  her  invisible  and  immortal  friend  Mrs.  Harris,  Montague 
Tigg,  Mrs.  Todgers,  and  half  a  dozen  others  we  might  mention, 
are  well-remembered  acquaintances,  whose  names  serve  as  easy 
symbols  in  every-day  conversation. 

While  "  Martin  Chuzzlewit"  was  in  progress  the  world  was 
agreeably  delighted  by  the  announcement  that  Mr.  Dickens  had  a 
Christmas  book  in  the  press.  In  due  time  the  famous  "  Carol" 
made  its  appearance,  and  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  hearts  beat  quicker  to  its  lovely  staves,  and  re- 
membered with  keener  joy  the  festive  duties  of  the  Christian  sea- 
son. 

The  originality  and  brightness  of  the  "  Carol"  secured  for  it  an 
immediate  popularity,  which  it  has  never  lost.  It  is  not  going 

Q 


362  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

too  far  to  say  that  of  its  sort  it  is  the  finest  work  in  the  English 
language,  and  while  human  nature  exists  it  is  difficult  to  see  how 
such  a  work  can  be  dimmed  by  time.  An  enormous  edition  was 
disposed  of,  and  the  profits  were  such  as  to  enable  Mr.  Dickens 
to  assume  a  better  position  with  his  publishers,  or,  rather,  to 
change  them  entirely.  .  One  of  the  sacred  privileges  of  genius  is 
to  be  in  debt,  and  we  may  remark,  without  committing  an  un- 
pardonable act  of  bad  taste,  that  Mr.  Dickens  is  not  without  his 
little  scandals  in  this  matter.  Few  writers  have  probably  de- 
rived so  much  directly  from  the  public,  but  in  cases  of  this  kind 
any  amount  is  almost  sure  to  be  insufficient.  A  popular  favorite 
is  to  a  great  extent  public  property.  He  becomes  the  observed 
of  all  observers.  His  household  is  an  object  of  curiosity,  and, 
from  the  mere  duties  of  hospitality,  it  becomes  vastly  inflated. 
Then  it  is  notorious  that  men  of  sentiment  and  genial  inspiration 
always  incline  to  the  profuse  and  liberal  rather  than  the  econom- 
ical and  discreet.  Mr.  Dickens  maintains  a  large  household,  and 
his  expenses  are  undoubtedly  very  great.  Among  his  acquaint- 
ances may  be  numbered  the  highest  in  the  land,  and,  although 
persons  of  this  class  do  not  demand  extravagance,  and,  in  point 
of  fact,  are  often  remarkable  for  their  disregard  of  it,  they  lead 
necessarily  to  conditions  of  domestic  plenty  and  luxury  which  are 
not  easily  imposed  on  the  income  of  the  literary  man.  In  a  the- 
oretical point  of  view,  Mr.  Dickens  seems  to  have  had  his  eye  di- 
rected to  the  main  chance  for  many  years,  and  in  a  letter  to  Lord 
Jeffrey,  which  has  been  made  public,  speaks  of  a  certain  provision 
or  imbankment  for  his  family,  which  the  canny  Scotchman  says 
he  is  surprised  to  find  "  still  so  small."  It  was  probably  owing  to 
the  advice  of  this  discreet  friend  that  Mr.  "Dickens  freed  himself 
from  the  influence  of  his  former  publishers  and  made  an  arrange- 
ment with  Messrs.  Bradbury  &  Evans,  who  have  since  issued  his 
works  at  a  bare  percentage  on  the  actual  cost  of  manufacture.  All 
that  can  be  made  from  their  sale  goes  directly  into  the  pocket  of 
Mr.  Dickens  without  any  intermediate  taxation.  Still  it  is  pretty 
generally  understood  that  Mr.  Dickens's  income,  although  un- 
doubtedly greater  than  that  of  the  President  of  the  United  States, 
falls  short  of  his  outgoings.  It  is  a  matter  with  which  the  public 
lias  nothing  whatever  to  do,  and  the  scandal,  like  all  other  scan- 
dals, is  simply  impertinent.  No  man  in  literature,  or  in  any  thing 
else,  has  worked  harder  than  Mr.  Dickens.  In  mere  quantity,  he 


CHARLES  DICKENS.  363 

has  produced  more  than  an  entire  generation  would  have  produced 
when  reputations  were  easily  achieved.  If  he  goes  a  little  beyond 
his  capital,  it  is  no  one's  business  but  his  own. 

The  furore  occasioned  by  the  publication  of  the  "  Christmas 
Carol,"  and  the  pecuniary  profit  which  resulted  therefrom,  led 
naturally  to  a  repetition  of  the  experiment  on  the  following  Christ- 
mas, when  "  The  Chimes,  a  Goblin  Story"  made  its  appearance, 
accompanied  by  any  quantity  of  Christmas  books  by  other  authors. 
It  is  doubtful  if  this  work  is  in  any  way  inferior  to  the  "  Carol," 
while  in  point  of  careful  writing  it  far  excels  it.  A  very  generous 
success  rewarded  the  author,  and  induced  him  to  continue  the  ex- 
periment of  Christmas  books  for  some  years  subsequently.  The 
"Cricket  on  the  Hearth,"  "The  Battle  of  Life,"  and  "The 
Haunted  Man,"  made  their  appearance  in  regular  succession,  but 
their  interest  was  not  the  same.  The  truth  of  the  matter,  we  sus- 
pect, is  that  the  "  Carol"  was  a  happy  inspiration,  while  all  the 
others  were  more  or  less  of  a  task.  There  was  also  an  attempt  to 
improve  on  the  design  of  the  first  work,  which  was  superfluous, 
inasmuch  as  inspiration  is  an  essence  which  does  not  submit  to  ar- 
tistic distillation. 

A  disposition  to  ramble  belongs  naturally  to  the  literary  char- 
acter. Mr.  Dickens,  although  a  family-man,  does  not  neglect  his 
little  opportunities.  When  the  vacation  comes,  and  come  it  does 
even  to  the  popular  author,  he  packs  his  carpet-bag  and  flies  away 
with  the  best  of  them.  We  have  enjoyed  the  pleasant  experience 
of  his  observation  in  many  fugitive  pieces,  particularly  since  the 
establishment  of  "  Household  Words."  In  1844  Mr.  Dickens  de- 
termined to  take  a  stroll  through  Italy  in  a  large  and  responsi- 
ble manner.  He  staid  there  for  a  year,  surrounded  by  his  fam- 
ily, and  living  in  a  palace.  It  is  probable  that  he  would  have 
remained  longer  but  for  a  new  speculation  which  engaged  his 
thoughts.  This  was  none  other  than  the  establishment  of  a  daily 
newspaper  to  rival  and  perhaps  extinguish  "  The  Times."  In  due 
tune  the  first  issue  made  its  appearance,  and  the  "Daily  News" 
became  a  reality  among  newspapers.  Mr.  Dickens  was  placed  at 
the  head  of  the  literary  department,  and  the  weight  of  his  name 
undoubtedly  gave  prestige  to  the  undertaking.  But  starting  a 
newspaper  is  a  slow  and  laborious  process.  Its  results  are  not 
more  rapid  than  those  of  a  new  vineyard  planted  in  uncertain 
soil.  To  succeed  with  any  thing  like  moderate  rapidity  it  is  neces- 


364  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

sary  to  have  a  staff  of  men  thoroughly  broken  in  to  the  work,  for 
newspaper  writing  and  newspaper  work  are  in  themselves  peculiar, 
and  demand  study  and  practice.  Literary  men  are  very  apt  to 
suppose  that  because  they  can  write  a  good  story  they  can  neces- 
sarily dash  off  an  editorial  with  infinite  and  almost  contemptible 
ease.  Nothing  can  be  farther  from  the  fact.  The  best  newspaper 
writers  are  those  whose  imaginations  never  tempt  them  into  the 
realms  of  fiction,  men  who  can  fix  their  mind  on  a  fact  yvith  the 
absolute  certainty  of  conquering  it.  Moreover,  in  the  conduct  of 
a  public  journal  it  is  necessary  to  observe  a  rough  sort  of  descrim- 
ination,  without  staring  too  sternly  at  absolute  propriety,  or  mak- 
ing it  apparent  at  every  step  that  you  have  a  side  to  keep  up. 
There  is  a  blunted  conscientiousness  about  an  experienced  editor 
which  is  no  less  serviceable  than  curious.  He  says  not  only  what 
is  necessary  to  be  said,  but  frequently  what  is  absolutely  unneces- 
sary. His  advances  and  his  concessions,  his  liberalities  and  his 
meannesses  are  so  metaphysically  balanced  that  it  is  almost  impos- 
sible for  aJiterary  man,  or,  indeed,  any  man  given  to  exact  thought, 
to  understand  their  drift.  The  truth  of  the  matter  is  that  an  ed- 
itor when  he  becomes  good  ceases  to  be  the  champion  of  a  bare 
principle.  He  yields  to  the  pressure  from  without,  simply  giving 
to  it  a  shape  and  complexion  consonant  with  his  education  and 
mode  of  thought.  Young  writers,  on  the  other  hand,  cling  to 
their  own  ideas  with  a  tenacity  which,  if  it  fails  to  excite  admira- 
tion, is  sure  to  create  disgust.  They  work  themselves  into  an  ill- 
temper  with  a  facility  which  is  wonderful,  and  generally  succeed 
in  producing  the  same  result  in  their  readers. 

All  Mr.  Dickens's  roseate  visions  of  journalistic  life,  if  he  ever 
had  any,  were  soon  knocked  on  the  head.  Good  as  the  paper  was, 
it  failed  to  pay  expenses,  partly  owing  to  the  smallness  of  the  price 
which  was'  charged  for  it,  and  partly  owing  to  the  fact  that  a  young 
newspaper  always  must  pay  too  much  for  its  whistle.  It  was  de- 
termined to  raise  the  price  to  three  pence,  but  even  this  did  not  do. 
There  was  still  a  loss,  and  finally  the  price  was  made  the  same  as 
the  "London  Times."  This  was  not,  we  apprehend,  a  good  way 
of  competing  with  that  powerful  and  well-conducted  journal,  but 
it  was  perhaps  the  best  thing  that  could  be  done  in  London,  where 
people  are  apt  to  look  with  suspicion  on  any  thing  that  is  cheap 
and  new.  Whatever  the  immediate  result,  we  know  now  that 
the  "  Daily  News"  holds  its  own  against  the  "  Thunderer"  with 


CHARLES  DICKENS.  365 

such  marked  ability  that  as  an  exponent  of  public  opinion  is  second 
only  to  it.  To  return,  then,  to  Mr.  Dickens.  In  this  paper,  be- 
sides numerous  "  editorials,"  he  published  the  series  of  communi- 
cations known  as  "  Pictures  from  Italy,"  the  result  of  his  sojourn 
in  the  sunny  land.  They  are  exceedingly  light,  and  repay  a  hasty 
perusal,  their  greatest  fault  being,  in  point  of  fact,  that  they  are 
too  light  even  for  the  ephemeral  columns  of  a  newspaper.  Con- 
sidering that  they  came  from  the  pen  of  Mr.  Dickens,  it  is  not  say- 
ing too  much  to  state  plainly  that  they  failed.  This  circumstance, 
combined  with  others  of  a  pecuniary  character,  induced  Mr.  Dick- 
ens to  relinquish  the  duties  of  the  editor's  chair.  "  The  Pictures 
from  Italy"  were  subsequently  published  in  book  form,  but  they 
failed  to  attract  general  attention. 

And  here  we  will  take  the  liberty  of  mentioning  a  work  by  Mr. 
Dickens  which  is  not  so  widely  known  as  it  deserves  to  be.  It 
has  never  been  added  to  his  complete  works,  although  in  its  way 
it  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  completest  of  them  all.  In  1844  a 
little  book  was  published  called  "  The  Evenings  of  a  "Working-man, 
being  the  occupation  of  his  scanty  leisure,  by  John  Overs ;  with  a 
preface  relating  to  the  author  by  Charles  Dickens."  The  story 
of  this  little  volume  is  touching  enough.  John  Overs  was  a  work- 
ing-man, a  carpenter,  who  devoted  his  evenings  to  literary  compo- 
sition. He  wrote  to  Dickens  to  ask  him  to  assist  him  in  obtaining 
a  publisher.  A  correspondence  took  place,  and  an  interview  in 
which  Dickens  endeavored  to  dissuade  John  Overs  from  placing 
too  much  expectation  on  literary  renown  or  profit.  "He  wrote 
to  me,"  says  Mr.  Dickens,  "  as  manly  and  as  straightforward,  but, 
withal,  as  modest  a  letter  as  ever  I  read  in  my  life.  He  explained 
to  me  how  limited  his  ambition  was,  soaring  no  higher  than  the 
establishment  of  his  wife  in  some  light  business  and  the  better  ed- 
ucation of  his  children.  He  set  before  me  the  difference  of  his 
evening  and  holiday  studies,  such  as  they  were,  and  his  having  no 
better  resource  than  an  ale-house  or  a  skittle-ground."  The  book 
was  published  with  an  introduction  by  Mr.  Dickens.  It  accom- 
plished its  object,  but  it  was  incapable  of  bringing  health  to  the 
blanched  cheek  of  the  poor  artisan.  John  Overs  is  no  more,  and 
his  book  is  forgotten,  but  Dickens's  gentleness  to  this  smitten  la- 
borer is  surely  worthy  of  remembrance. 

"  Dombey  and  Son"  was  the  next  work  which  came  from  the 
pen  of  Mr.  Dickens,  appearing  in  the  usual  monthly  form,  and  con- 
suming something  more  than  a  year  and  a  half  in  publication. 


366  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

The  critics  were  divided  concerning  the  merits  of  this  work.  Por- 
tions of  it,  such,  for  instance,  as  the  passages  relating  to  little  Paul 
Dombey,  were  universally  extolled.  On  the  whole,  however,  it 
was  regarded  as  something  of  a  failure.  The  story  found  its  way 
to  the  stage,  and  in -all  parts  of  the  world  the  name  of  Captain 
Cuttle  is  famous- 

Perhaps  Dickens  himself  had  a  feeling  that  "  Dombey"  was  not 
quite  up  to  the  usual  standard,  and  this  consciousness,  added  to 
the  fact  that  Mr.  Thackeray  had  just  made  his  mark  in  "Vanity 
Fair,"  led  to  a .  very  careful  revision  of  his  subsequent  work, 
"David  Copperfield."  Thi^work  is  universally  accepted  as  one 
of  Mr.  Dickens's  best,  and  is  rendered-  doubly  interesting  by  the 
knowledge  that  it  is,  to  an  extent  at  least,  an  autobiography.  The 
whole  story  is  wonderfully  human,  and  paints  the  struggles  of  life, 
brought  down  absolutely  to  the  moment  in  which  we  live  and 
breathe,  with  a  vividness  which  feirly  illuminates  the  brain  and 
floods  the  heart.  The  struggles  or  the  poor  boy-hero,  surrounded 
by  flinty-hearted  relatives,  the  sympathy  which  he  excites  in  the 
bosom  of  lowly  fisher-folk,  the  wonderfully  earnest  story  of  the 
poor  seduced  girl,  and  that  loveliest  of  all  lovely  creations,  the 
rough  yet  delicate  loyalty  of  the  old  fisherman  for  his  lost  niece, 
are  so  far  beyond  the  efforts  of  the  modern  writer  of  fiction  that 
they  take  us  into  a  new  world  of  emotion,  and  create  an  enjoy- 
ment which  it  may  honestly  be  said  belongs  only  to  the  contempla- 
tion of  virtue.  In  a  merely  artistic  point  of  view,  it  is  the  best 
written  of  Mr.  Dickens's  productions,  and  displays  a  prodigious 
command  of  the  pure  narrative  style,  peculiarly  enjoyable  when  the 
author  is  describing  his  own  modest  efforts  in  literature.  There 
are  characters  in  the  work  which  again  give  significance  to  mod- 
ern society.  There  are  few  of  us  who  do  not  know  a  Micawber, 
a  modified  Uriah  Heap,  a  child-wife,  an  Agnes,  or  some  other  of 
the  innumerable  groupings  which  give  dramatic  vigor  to  its  plot. 

In  1840  Mr.  Dickens  issued  the  first  number  of  his  celebrated 
periodical  known  as  "  Household  Words."  It  is,  as  our  readers 
are  aware,  a  large  weekly  serial,  entirely  free  from  advertisements, 
and  filled  with  original  matter.  Nearly  all  the  most  prominent 
of  the  young  English  writers  have  contributed  to  its  columns,  and 
several  of  the  number  have'  acquired  a  style  which  compares  favor- 
ably with  that  of  Mr.  Dickens,  especially  Mr.  Sala,  a  writer  of 
very  pleasant  observation  and  great  industry.  It  was  in  this  pub- 
lication that  Mr.  Dickens  published  his  famous  "  Child's  History 


CHARLES  DICKENS.  367 

of  England,"  a  work  avowedly  intended  for  children,  but  contain- 
ing so  many  vivid  pictm-es  of  grand  English  events  that  it  fasci- 
pates  the  most  cultivated  minds.  A  vast  number  of  articles  on 
topics  of  the  day  and  a  novel  called  "Hard  Times"  have  also 
appeared  in  its  columns  from  the  same  prolific  pen.  The  under- 
taking is  understood  to  be  a  very  profitable  one,  and  Mr.  Dickens 
devotes  much  of  his  time  to  its  conduct.  The  miscellaneous  as- 
sociation with  men  of  letters  which  the  editorship  of  a  journal  in- 
volves probably  suggested  to  Mr.  Dickens  the  idea  of  the  "  Guild 
of  Literature  and  Art,"  which,  in  1851,  was  projected  under  the 
joint  auspices  of  himself  and  Sir  Edward  Lytton  Bulwer.  To  as- 
sist in  raising  a  fund  for  the  objects  of  this  charitable  association, 
a  series  of  amateur  performances  were  given  in  London  and  else- 
where, the  author  of  "  The  Caxtons"  writing  a  new  comedy  for 
the  occasion  called  "  Not  so  bad  as  we  seem." 

Mr.  Dickens's  latest  works  are  "  Bleak  House"  and  "  Little 
Dorritt,"  both  of  which  are  of  such  recent  origin  that  additional 
remarks  are  unnecessary.  We  may  add  in  this  place  that  Mr. 
Dickens  is  the  author  of  a  "  Life  of  Grimaldi,  the  Clown,"  and 
of  an  opera  and  a  farce.  The  first  of  these  neglected  children  may 
sometimes  be  met  with,  but  the  others  appear  to  be  lost. 

In  personal  appearance,  says  a  writer  in  the  "  Biographical 
Magazine,"  Mr.  Dickens  is  prepossessing;  his  figure  small  but 
well  made,  his  look  intelligent,  and  his  eye  peculiarly  quick,  viv- 
id, and  expressive.  When  he  enters  a  room  he  appears  to  take  a 
complete  catalogue  and  estimate  of  the  furniture  and  people  at  a 
glance.  His  powers  of  penetration  are  remarkable,  and  his  facil- 
ity of  description  we  all  know  is  equally  extraordinary.  In  pri- 
vate Boz  talks  much  or  little,  according  to  the  sympathy  he  has 
with  the  company.  His  conversation  is,  as  might  be  expected, 
easy,  flowing,  and  genial ;  he  hates  argument,  and  never  talks  for 
effect.  He  excels  in  telling  a  story,  which  he  does  in  general 
with  humorous  exaggerations.  He  is  a  great  admirer  of  Tenny- 
son's poetry  and  of  Maclise's  pictures.  His  house  in  Devonshire 
Terrace  is  adorned  with  pictures  of  the  best  living  artists,  and 
every  corner  shows  the  influence  of  taste  and  wealth.  His  li- 
brary is  extensive,  and  in  the  literature  of  his  country,  in  which 
few  are  better  read,  very  well  selected.  He  is,  or  rather  was, 
very  active  and  fond  of  dancing,  his  favorite  dance  being  Sir 
Roger  de  Coverly.  He  has  also  a  remarkable  passion  (which  is 
shared  by  Macaulay)  for  midnight  wandering  in  a  city's  streets. 


SIR   THOMAS   LAWRENCE. 

THIS  celebrated  painter  was  born  in  1769,  and  was  the  young- 
est of  a  family  of  sixteen  children.  His  father,  although  a  man 
of  some  cultivation,  and  originally  educated  to  the  law,  was  an 
innkeeper  at  Bristol  (where  Thomas  was  born),  and  made  a  mis- 
erable living.  His  success,  indeed,  was  so  very  limited,  that  in  a 
short  time  he  abandoned  business  and  repaired  to  Devizes.  Mr. 
Lawrence  was,  in  some  respects,  a  very  remarkable  man.  His 
mind  always  appears  to  have  been  occupied  with  matters  out  of  his 
business,  and  not  in  it.  One  of  his  most  remarkable  passions  was 
for  poetry,  which  he  not  only  wrote,  but  spouted  with  great  gusto. 
He  would  sometimes  walk  into  the  parlor  of  his  hotel,  and  insist 
that  all  the  guests  should  .leave  off  their  affairs  while  he  recited  a 
poejn  for  their  better  edification.  Poetry,  under  certain  conditions 
of  life,  is  delightful,  but,  thrust  down  the  unwilling  throat  in  this 
abrupt  manner,  it  loses  all  its  charm,  and  becomes  a  serious  bore. 
It  is  not  at  all  remarkable  that  his  customers  deserted  him  for  a 
more  tranquil  hostelry. 

Thomas  was  a  prodigy  from  his  earliest  years.    He  is  thus  de- 


SIB  THOMAS  LAWRENCE.  369 

scribed  by  an  "eye-witness"  in  Barrington's  Miscellanies  (1781). 
After  speaking,  of  the  early  musical  talent  exhibited  by  the  Earl 
of  Mornington,  he  proceeds  :  "As  I  have  mentioned  so  many  other 
proofs  of  early  genius  in  children,  I  can  not  here  pass  unnoticed 
Master  Lawrence,  son  of  an  innkeeper  at  Devizes,  in  Wiltshire. 
This  boy  is  now  (1780)  nearly  ten  years  and  a  half  old,  but  at  the 
age  of  nine,  without  the  most  distant  instruction  from  any  one,  he 
was  capable  of  copying  historical  subjects  in  a  masterly  style,  and 
also  succeeded  amazingly  in  compositions  of  his  own,  particularly 
that  of  Peter  denying  Christ.  In  about  seven  minutes  he  scarce- 
ly ever  failed  of  drawing  a  strong  likeness  of  any  person  present, 
which  had  generally  -much  freedom  and  grace,  if  the  subject  per- 
mitted. He  is  likewise  an  excellent  reader  of  blank  verse,  and 
will  immediately  convince  any  one  that  he  both  understands  and 
feels  the  striking  passages  of  Milton  and  Shakspeare."  Mr.  Law- 
rence was,  of  course,  enormously  proud  of  his  youthful  son,  and 
never  neglected  an  opportunity  of  bringing  him  out  before  his  friends 
to  recite  a  poem.  At  the  age  of  six  Thomas  was  sent  to  school, 
where,  however,  he  only  remained  for  a  couple  of  years.  This, 
with  the  exception  of  a  few  lessons  in  Latin  and  French  which  he 
received  some  time  after,  was  all  the  schooling  he  ever  received. 
His  early  proficiency  in  drawing  belonged  entirely  to  innate  talent. 
So  remarkable  was  it,  that  one  gentleman  of  wealth  volunteered  to 
maintain  him  in  Italy,  if  he  would  repair  to  that  country  to  study. 
But  one  of  his  father's  queer  whims  interfered  with  the  operation 
of  this  plan.  He  was  afraid  that  study  in  the  schools  would 
cramp  and  restrain  the  development  of  his  sen's  native  genius. 
He  became  so  absurd  on  this  subject  that  he  would  not  even  al- 
low Thomas  to  take  lessons  from  resident  masters. 

Mr.  Lawrence  failed  in  business  in  Devizes,  as  he  had  done  in 
Bristol,  and  probably  from  the  same  cause.  He  now  removed  to 
Bath,  a  fashionable  watering-place,  where  people  who  think  they 
are  sick  drink  very  nasty  water  and  believe  they  are  well.  The 
reputation  of  young  Thomas  had  preceded  him,  and  much  curiosity 
was  displayed  to  witness  his  productions.  Mr.  Lawrence  saw  that 
something  profitable  might  be  made  out  of  this,  and  he  was  right. 
Thomas  took  portraits  at  a  guinea  apiece,  and  had  so  many  sitters 
that  he  raised  the  price  to  a  guinea  and  a  half.  He  conducted  this 
business  with  complete  success  for  a  period  of  six  years,  during 
that  long  time  supporting  his  father  and  family  by  his  unassisted 


370  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

labors.  He  is  said  to  have  worked  regularly  in  painting  portraits 
at  least  four  hours  a  day.  The  rest  of  his  time  was  devoted  to 
studies  and  efforts  to  obtain  mechanical  excellence.  Among  his 
patrons  were  some  who  owned  valuable  pictures,  and  who  readily 
gave  the  young  artist  permission  to  copy  them.  Among  other 
copies  which  he  executed  at  this  time  was  one  of  the  Transfig- 
uration by  Raphael.  This  was  sent  to  the  Society  of  Arts,  but, 
owing  to  some  informality,  was  inadmissible  to  the  exhibition. 
The  society,  however,  were  so  satisfied  of  its  merits  that  they 
bestowed  on  the  young  artist  their  large  silver  palette  and  five 
guineas  in  cash. 

During  his  stay  in  Bath  he  received  some  "valuable  lessons  from 
Mr.  Hoare,  a  crayon  painter  of  exquisite  taste,  fancy,  and  feeling. 
Under  the  instruction  of  this  gentleman  he  acquired  considerable 
ability  in  the  execution  of  crayon  portraits.  The  extreme  deli- 
cacy of  his  finish  gave  to  his  pictures  a  superior  charm  even  at 
this  early  day,  and  he  found  no  scarcity  of  sitters.  His  father 
took  him  on  excursions  to  Oxford,  Salisbury,  and  Weymouth, 
where  he  obtained  ready  occupation  for  his  pencil,  and  finally  he 
removed  to  London,  imagining  that,  in  a  larger  field,  his  son  would 
have  a  better  opportunity  for  exercising  his  abilities  to  advantage. 
It  is  probable,  also,  that  Thomas's  success  with  the  Society  of  Arts 
had  something  to  do  with  this  determination.  The  resolution  of 
this  society  is  worthy  of  preservation.  It  is  as  follows  :  "  Took 
into  consideration  the  drawings  of  the  Transfiguration,  marked 
G.,  and  opened  the  paper  containing  the  name  of  the  candidate, 
according  to  the  directions  of  the  society ;  and  it  appeared  to  the 
committee  that  the  candidate  was  T.  Lawrence,  aged  13,  1783, 
in  Alfred  Street,  Bath.  The  committee,  having  received  satis- 
factory information  that  the  production  is  entirely  the  work  of 
the  young  man,  resolved  to  recommend  to  the  society  to  give  the 
greater  silver  palette  gilt  and  five  guineas  to  Mr.  T.  Lawrence,  as 
a  token  of  the  society's  approbation  of  his  abilities." 

In  London  Thomas  Lawrence  pursued  his  profession  with  suc- 
cess. Besides  portraits,  he  executed  many  drawings,  which  were 
finished  with  such  exquisite  lightness  and  grace  that  the  smallest 
found  a  ready  sale  at  half  a  guinea.  Lawrence's  first  appearance 
as  an  exhibitor  was  at  Somerset  House  in  1787,  when  he  con- 
tributed seven  pictures.  The  next  year  he  removed  into  a  fash- 
ionable neighborhood,  and  contributed  six  of  his  performances  to 


SIR  THOMAS  LAWRENCE.  371 

the  exhibition.  The  following  year  he  sent  no  fewer  than  thir- 
teen, and  in  1790  twelve  pictures.  Among  the  latter  were  por- 
traits of  some  of  the  most  eminent  personages  in  the  land.  In 
the  catalogue  of  1792  he  is  described  as  "  Thomas  Lawrence,  a 
^principal  painter  in  ordinary  to  his  majesty."  The  year  previous 
lie  had  been  elected  an  associate  of  the  Royal  Academy. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  he  would  now  have  been  in  easy 
circumstances,  but  his  pecuniary  affairs  were  far  from  affluent. 
The  draughts  made  on  his  purse  by  his  parents  were  frequent  and 
deep.  Thomas  was  only  too  glad  to  supply  their  wants,  and  toil 
for  more,  that  they  might  share  it. 

On  the  death  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  in  1792,  Mr.  Lawrence 
had  not  completed  his  twenty-third  year,  but  was  the  recipient  of 
many  honors  which  had  been  denied  to  others.  The  Dilettanti 
Society  unanimously  chose  him  to  succeed  Sir  Joshua  as  their 
painter,  although  to  effect  this  they  were  obliged  to  rescind  a 
regulation  (and  a  very  stupid  one)  which  prevented  the  admission 
to  the  society  of  any  person  who  had  not  crossed  the  Alps.  Mr. 
Lawrence's  foot  had  never  quitted  the  soil  of  England.  The 
king,  George  the  Third,  also  appointed  him  to  succeed  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  as  his  principal  painter  in  ordinary. 

Thus  established  as  the  popular  portrait  painter  of  the  day, 
Lawrence  experienced  no  scarcity  of  patrons.  He  gradually  raised 
his  prices  as  he  advanced  in  fame,  but  the  sitters  came  even  in 
larger  numbers.  In  1802  his  charge  for  three  quarters  size  was 
thirty  guineas ;  for  a  full  length,  sixty  guineas ;  and  for  a  whole 
length,  one  hundred  and  twenty  guineas.  In  1806  the  three  quar- 
ters rose  to  forty  guineas,  and  the  whole  length  to  two  hundred. 
In  1808  he  raised  the  smallest  size  to  eighty  guineas,  and  the 
largest  to  three  hundred  and  twenty  guineas  ;  and  in  1810,  when 
the  death  of  Hoppner  swept  all  rivalry  out  of  the  way,  he  in- 
creased the  price  of  the  heads  to  one  hundred,  and  the  full-lengths 
to  four  hundred  guineas. 

About  this  time  he  was  suspected  of  serious  love-maki»g  in  a 
very  high  quarter,  and  a  good  deal  of  scandal  was  the  conse- 
quence. For  some  time  Lawrence  had  been  a  frequent  guest  at 
Montague  House,  Blackheath,  the  residence  of  the  Princess  of 
Wales ;  and  as  he  continued  his  attentions  after  the  portrait  of 
that  unfortunate  lady  was  finished,  his  visits  were  ascribed  to  no 
proper  motive.  This  was  rigorously  inquired  into  by  the  com- 


372  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

missioners  appointed  to  investigate  the  general  conduct  of  her 
royal  highness.  Light  of  heart,  and  of  a  natural  levity,  which 
disregarded  the  smaller  delicacies  of  her  sex ;  deserted  or  driven 
away  by  one  who  had  taken  upon  himself  the  office  of  protect- 
or, and  with  manners  much  more  free  than  were  common  in  En- 
gland, this  princess  was  exposed  to  insinuations  which  any  oth- 
er lady  in  the  kingdom  might  have  escaped.  From  all  that  was 
criminal,  the  charity  or  the  justice  of  the  commissioners  of  that 
day  entirely  freed  her,  and  the  conduct  of  the  painter  would  have 
been  forgotten,  had  not  his  own  restlessness  under  the  suspicion 
hurried  him  before  a  magistrate,  to  make  oath  that  his  visits  arose 
from  friendship,  and  were  platonic  and  pure. 

Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  died  very  suddenly  on  the  7th  of  Janu- 
ary, 1830.  Four  days  previous  he  had  been  dining  with  some 
friends.  After  their  departure,  he  felt  so  indisposed  that  he  sent 
for  his  friend,  Dr.  Holland,  who  conceived  his  case  so  dangerous 
that  he  even  sat  up  with  him  the  whole  night.  No  idea  of  dan- 
ger had  been  previously  entertained,  nor  any  notion  that  he  was 
worse  than  what  is  usually  called  poorly.  On  the  evening  be- 
fore his  death  he  was  so  much  better  that  he  received  two  of  his 
friends,  and  entered  into  a  pleasant  and  easy  conversation  on  the 
subject  of  art  and  other  matters.  After  a  while  the  two  friends 
left  the'sick  man's  chamber,  and  retired  for  a  short  time  to  an  ad- 
joining one.  Presently  they  were  alarmed  by  the  servant's  cries 
for  assistance,  and,  on  running  into  the  room,  to  their  horror  they 
beheld  Sir  Thomas  a  corpse.  The  servant  related  that  when  he 
was  called  in  his  master's  arm  was  bleeding  (he  had  been  bled  at 
the  commencement  of  the  attack).  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair, 
seemed  much  oppressed,  and  exclaimed,  "  I  am  very  ill ;  I  must 
be  dying !"  These  were  the  last  words  he  uttered.  A  post- 
mortem examination  revealed  the  fact  that  he  died  from  very  ex- 
tensive ossification  of  the  vessels  of  the  heart.  He  was  buried 
with  great  pomp  in  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul's,  where  lay  the 
earthly  remains  of  the  preceding  president  of  the  Royal  Acade- 
my, Sir  Benjamin  West. 

Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  was  a  remarkable  instance  of  a  perfect 
artist,  entirely  self  taught.  Painting  was  with  him  so  natural  a 
gift,  that  some  of  his  earliest  productions  are  marked  by  the  same 
grace  and  finish  that  characterize  his  later  works.  An  eminent 
writer  says  with  great  justice,  "To  become  the  most  illustrious 


SIR  THOMAS  LAWRENCE.  373 

portrait  painter  of  any  age  or  country,  somewhat  more  is  required 
than  the  attributes,  however  essential,  of  a  mere  artist.  A  prac- 
ticed mastership  of  the  manual  dexterities  of  his  art,  an  exquisite 
perception  of  the  beautiful,  a  mind  delicately  organized  and  en- 
lightened by  study,  are  not  alone  sufficient  to  form  a  Titian,  a 
Vandyke,  a  Reynolds,  or  a  Lawrence.  In  addition  to  those  char- 
acteristics, it  is  indispensable  that  the  tone  and  address  of  an  indi- 
vidual destined  to  record  upon  his  canvas  all  that  is  illustrious 
and  beautiful  in  his  time,  should  be  such  as  to  qualify  him  for 
habitual  familiarity  with  the  objects  who  seek  favor  with  poster- 
ity through  his  interpretation — that  he  should  live,  and  move, 
and  have  his  being  in  that  factitious  atmosphere  which  has  called 
into  life  the  fair  and  fragile  flowers  whose  beauty  is  destined  to 
be  immortalized  by  his  touch.  Instead  of  rising  from  the  sordid 
trivialities  of  vulgar  life  to  welcome  some  noble  into  his  studio, 
before  whose  overpowering  dignity  his  own  greatness  of  concep- 
tion sinks  rebuked,  the  painter  of  princes  should  be  the  guest  of 
princes — should  learn  to  note  the  aspect  of  the  vain  beauty,  not 
as  when,  discontented  and  shivering,  she  throws  her  listless  length 
into  a  chair  to  be  copied. by  the  servile  painter,  but  as  when,  with 
all  her  beauties  radiant  around  hei1,  with  all  the  enchantments  of 
her  grace  called  into  energy  by  the  emulation  and  inspiring  flat- 
tery of  the  ball-room,  she  expands  into  a  brighter  self.  Nay, 
more  than  this,  he  should  be  permitted  to  follow  his  subjects  into 
the  gorgeous  retreat  of  their  luxurious  homes,  catching  the  air 
and  negligent  individuality  of  the  statesman,  pen  in  hand,  beside 
his  own  disordered  table,  and  the  domestic  loveliness  of  the  young 
mother,  who  exchanges  the  diamond  necklace  for  the  twining  arms 
of  her  beautiful  children.  It  was.  to  a  participation  in  advant- 
ages such  as  these  that  the  super-eminence  of  Sir  Thomas  Law- 
rence as  a  court  painter  might  in  a  great  measure  be  attributed. 
The  airy  grace,  the  exquisite  high-breeding  of  his  female  portraits 
— the  tone,  in  short,  of  his  art,  was  but  the  tact  of  an  elegant 
mind  refined  by  high  association." 


WILLIAM   GIFFOKD. 

WILLIAM  GIFFOED  was  born  at  Ashburton,  Devonshire,  En- 
gland,'  April,  1756.  His  father  was  a  wild,  dissipated  fellow, 
who  neglected  his  wife  and  family  for  the  fatal  attractions  of  the 
ale-house.  He  was  a  plumber  and  glazier,  and  made  some  feeble 
attempts  to  teach  his  son  the  same  profession,  but  he  was  too  idle 
and  dissolute  even  for  this.  He  died  finally  of  a  decayed  and 
ruined  constitution,  leaving  a  widow  and  two  children,  of  whom 
William  was  the  eldest.  For  a  time  Mrs.  Gifford  endeavored  to 
carry  on  her  husband's  business  for  the  sake  of  the  family^but 
the  effort  was  ruinous.  Taking  advantage  of  her  ignorance,  her 
two  knavish  journeymen  wasted  her  property  and  embezzled  her 
money.  Overcome  by  anxiety  and  grief,  she  sank  into  the  grave 
within  twelve  months  of  her  unworthy  husband. 

The  children  were  left  completely  destitute,  for  what  few  things 
were  left  in  the  house  at  Mrs.  Gifford's  decease  were  seized  by  the 
landlord.  William  was  taken  into  the  house  of  this  individual, 
probably  because  he  was  useful,  while  his  little  brother  was  sent 
to  the  almshouse.  Rumors  began  to  circulate  in  the  town  that 
the  landlord  had  more  than  overpaid  himself  by  the  property 
taken  from  the  deceased  widow,  and,  to  hush  these  unpleasant 
rumors,  he  made  a  show  of  taking  a  great  interest  in  William,  and 
sent  him  to  the  grammar-school,  where  the  boy  made  the  most  of 
his  opportunities.  But,  at  the  end  of  three  months,  the  old  cur- 
mudgeon of  a  landlord  began  to  grudge  the  expense  and  trouble 
of  William's  education,  and  determined  that  he  would  get  rid  of 
him.  At  first  he  tried  to  place  him  on  a  farm,  but  Gifford  was 
physically  unable  to  endure  the  laboriousness  of  this  occupation. 
As  he  could  read  and  cipher,  his  godfather  next  proposed  to 
send  him  out  to  Newfoundland,  to  assist  in  a  store-house.  A 
Mr.  ^Houldsworthy,  of  Dartmouth,  was  to  fit  him  out  and  have 
his  services.  When,  however,  they  met,  the  boy  was  ignomini- 
ously  dismissed  as  "too  small."  Finally  he  obtained  a  berth  on 
a  small  coasting  vessel.  In  this  situation  Gifford  remained  for 
nearly  twelve  months,  undergoing  considerable  hardship  as  a  sea- 


WILLIAM  GIFFORD.  375 

man,  and  in  addition  performing  all  the  menial  offices  of  the  cabin. 
At  length  the  knowledge  of  his  situation  became  known  in  Ash- 
burton,  and  became  the  scandal  of  the  place.  His  godfather  de- 
termined to  recall  him,  and  on  Christmas-day,  1 770,  he  ceased  to 
be  a  sailor  boy.  Once  more  he  was  sent  to  school,  and  his  dili- 
gence was  again  unexceptionable.  In  arithmetic,  which  was  his 
"  darling  pursuit,"  he  made  such  rapid  progress  that  in  a  few 
months  he  was  at  the  head  of  the  school.  On  some  occasions  he 
was  even  called  on  to  assist  the  teacher,  and  when  this  happened, 
he  received  a  trifle  as  a  reward.  This  circumstance  suggested 
the  idea  of  obtaining  subsistence  by  becoming  the  master's  regu- 
lar assistant,  and  also  by  instructing  a  few  evening  scholars.  He 
hoped  that,  if  he  could  bring  this  to  bear,  he  might  ultimately  suc- 
ceed his  former  master,  Mr.  Hugh  Smerdon,  who  was  now  so  old 
and  infirm  that  his  tenure  of  office  was  not  likely  to  last  beyond 
three  or  four  years.  These  ideas  were  put  to  flight  by  his  god- 
father, Carlile,  who  informed  him  that  he  intended  to  bind  him 
apprentice  to  a  shoemaker.  Shortly  after  the  ceremony  took  place, 
and  Giffbrd,  burning  with  literary  ambition,  was  consigned  to  the 
lapstone  for  six  years.  A  business  so  distasteful  failed,  of  course, 
to  engage  his  attention,  and  he  became  the  common  drudge  of  the 
shoemaker's  family.  But  his  ambition  was  unaltered;  he  determ- 
ined to  make  the  most  of  every  opportunity  to  add  to  his  scanty 
stock  of  knowledge,  so  that,  if  fortune  befriended  him,  he  would 
be  found  ready.  His  opportunities  were  few,  and^the  temper  of 
his  master  unfavorable.  He  possessed  but  one  book,  a  treatise  on 
algebra,  and  this  was  unintelligible  to  him,  owing  to  his  ignorance 
of  simple  equations.  A  lucky  chance  enabled  him  to  overcome 
the  difficulty.  His  master's  son  had  bought  "  Fenning's  Intro- 
duction," which  he  secreted,  so  that  no  one  but  himself  might 
peruse  it.  Gifford  discovered  its  hiding-place,  sat  up  several 
nights  to  study  it,  and  had  completely  mastered  its  contents  be- 
fore its  owner  was  aware  that  it  had  been  used.  He  was  now  in 
n  position  to  use  his  own  book,  if  he  could  only  procure  pens,  ink, 
and  paper.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  He  had  no  money  and  no 
credit.  He  beat  out  scraps  of  leather  till  they  were  smooth^  and 
on  these  he  wrote  his  problems  with  a  blunted  awl.  He  was  as- 
sisted by  his  memory,  which  was  so  tenacious  that  he  could  mul- 
tiply and  divide  by  it  to  a  great  extent. 

About  this  time  he  displayed  some  aptness  in  making  rhymes, 


376  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

generally  little  squibs  on  passing  affairs.  He  says  of  them  that 
"nothing  on  earth  £as  more  deplorable,"  but  they  served  a  very 
important  purpose.  They  made  him  an  object  of  sympathy ;  peo- 
ple liked  to  hear  him  repeat  these  effusions,  and  made  little  collec- 
tions for  him,  so  that,  on  great,  appreciative  occasions,  the  bard 
received  as  much  as  sixpence  in  an  evening.  .  To  one  who  had  long 
lived  in  the  absolute  want  of  money,  such  a  resource  seemed  little 
less  than  a  Peruvian  mine.  He  furnished  himself  by  degrees  with 
paper,  etc.,  and,  what  was  of  more  importance,  with  books  of 
geometry  and  of  the  higher  branches  of  algebra,  cautiously  con- 
cealing the  latter,  lest  they  should  excite  the  indignation  of  his 
employer.  The  necessity  for  this  precaution  was  soon  apparent. 
Gifford's  master  became  dissatisfied  with  his  apprentice,  maintain- 
ing, not  unjustly,  perhaps,  that  he  paid  no  attention  to  business. 
He  was  ordered  to  give  up  his  papers,  but  this  he  refused  to  do. 
His  refusal  provoked  summary  measures ;  his  garret  was  search- 
ed, his  little  hoard  of  books  and  papers  was  discovered  and  taken 
away,  and  he  was  sternly  forbidden  to  study  any  longer.  This 
was  a  severe  blow,  but  it  was  followed  by  another  which  affected 
him  much  more  distressingly.  This  was  the  death. of  Mr.  Hugh 
Smerdon,  and  the  filling  up  of  the  vacant  place  which  he  had  as- 
pired to,  and  which  was  the  sole  end  and  aim  of  all  his  ambition. 
Describing  his  feelings  at  this  time,  he  says,  "  I  look  back  on 
that  part  of  my  life  which  followed  this  event  with  little  satis- 
faction ;  it  w^g  a  period  of  gloom  and  savage  unsociability.  By 
degrees  I  sunk  into  a  kind  of  corporeal  torpor,  or,  if  roused  into 
activity  by  the  spirit  of  youth,  wasted  the  exertion  in  splenetic 
and  vexatious  tricks,  which  alienated  the  few  acquaintances  which 
compassion  had  yet  left  me.  So  I  crept  on  in  silent  discontent, 
unfriended  and  unpitied,  indignant  of  the  present,  careless  of  the 
future,  an  object  at  once  of  apprehension  and  dislike." 

Brighter  days  were  in  store  for  him.  A  benevolent  gentleman 
of  Ashburton,  named  Cookesley,  heard  of  the  poor  lad's  story,  and 
sent  for  him.  "  My  little  history  was  not  untinctured  with  mel- 
ancholy," says  Gifford,  "and  I  laid  it  fairly  before  him.  His  first 
care  was  to  console;  his- second,  which  he  cherished  to  the  last 
moment  of  his  existence,  was  to  relieve  and  support  me."  This 
good  old  gentleman,  who  was  a  surgeon  by  profession,  immediately 
conceived  the  idea  of  extricating  Gifford  from  his  forlorn  position, 
and  establishing  him  in  a  school,  for  which  his  tastes  inclined  him. 


WILLIAM  GIFFORD.  377 

Being  a  man  of  limited  fortune,  he  was  unable  to  do  all  this  him- 
self, so  he  set  on  foot  a  subscription  "  for  purchasing  the  remain- 
der of  the  time  of  William  Gitfbrd,  and  for  enabling  him  to  per- 
fect himself  in  writing  and  English  grammar."  It  must  be  re- 
membered that,  although  Gifford  was  expert  at  figures,  and  had 
penetrated  the  mysteries  of  mathematics,  all  the  other  elements 
of  a  solid  education  were  wanting.  A  man  who  scratches  on 
leather  with  an  awl  is  not  likely  to  know  much  about  caligraphy. 

The  influence  of  good  Mr.  Cookesley  was  sufficient  to  secure 
the  objects  he  had  in  view.  '  Gifford  was  rescued  from  the  drudg- 
ery of  the  shoemaker's  stall,  and  placed  under  the  tuition  of  the 
Reverend  Thomas  Smerdon.  His  spirits  were  buoyant,  his  hopes 
sanguine,  and  he  applied  himself  to  study  with  such  determina- 
tion and  success,  that  when  the  funds  for  his  support  were  ex- 
hausted, his  patrons  willingly  renewed  their  contributions,  that 
his  education  might  be  continued  for  another  year.  At  the  end 
of  two  years  and  two  months  Mr.  Smerdon  pronounced  him  fit 
for  the  University ;  and  so  extraordinary  had  been  his  progress, 
that  his  patrons  abandoned  the  idea  of  putting  him  in  a  country 
school.  They  were  of  opinion  that  his  extraordinary  talents 
should  be  fully  cultivated,  and  that  for  this  purpose  he  should  be 
sent  to  Oxford.  Accordingly,  in  1780,  Gifford  was  removed  to 
Exeter  College.  The  proficiency  he  had  already  obtained  in  the 
mathematics*was  fully  attested  by  one  circumstance.  He  had 
been  but  a  short  time  at  Oxford  before  it  was  intimated  to  him 
.  that  his  farther  attendance  at  the  mathematical  lectures  was  un- 
necessary, as  he  had  carried  himself  as  far  in  the  sciencfe  as  the 
University  required.  He  was  consequently  left  more  at  leisure 
to  devote  himself  to  the  classics  and  poetry,  in  which  he  soon  dis- 
tinguished himself.  During  his  residence  at  Oxford  he  had  the 
misfortune  to  lose  his  good  friend,  Mr.  Cookesley.  The  event 
threw  him  into  a  state  of  despondency  from  which  he  found  it 
difficult  to  rescue  himself.  A  better  and  kinder  man  never  lived. 
He  had  been  more  than  a  father  to  Gifford — had  dragged  him 
from  the  vulgar  purlieus  of  an  obscure  trade,  and  had  placed  him 
on  the  high  road  to  fortune  and  distinction. 

During  his  residence  at  Oxford  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  a 
Mr.  Peters,  a  gentleman  who  acquired  reputation  as  an  artist,  and 
who  subsequently  became  a  clergyman.  The  acquaintance  ripen- 
ed into  friendship,  and  when  Mr.  Peters  left  the  University  for 


378  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

the  metropolis,  a  regular  correspondence  was  maintained  between 
the  friends.  At  his  desire,  Gifford's  letters  were  sent  under  cov- 
er to  Lord  Grosvenor.  It  chanced  that  in  one  instance  Gifford 
forgot  to  direct  the  inclosed  letter,  and,  naturally  supposing  that 
it  was  meant  for  himself,  his  lordship  opened  and  read  it.  The 
contents  surprised  and  interested  the  peer  to  such  an  extent  that 
he  desired  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  writer.  This  was  a 
happy  stroke  of  luck  for  Gifford.  He  was  introduced  to  his  lord- 
ship, and  was  at  once  treated  with  the  greatest  consideration. 
In  course  of  time  he  was  appointed' tutor  to  his  lordship's  son, 
one  of  the  most  amiable  and  accomplished  young  noblemen  of  the 
country,  and  with  him  made  the  tour  of  Europe. 

In  1791  Gifford  made  his  first  appearance  before  the  public  in 
the  character  of  author  and  critic.  At  that  time  the  town  was 
deluged  with  a  sickly  flood  of  sentimental  poetry.  Gifford  at- 
tacked it  in  the  Baviad,  a  free  imitation  of  the  first  satire  of  Per- 
sius.  His  stinging  sarcasm  and  ridicule  proved  fatal  to  the  Delia 
Cruscan  school  (as  it  was  called)  ;  laughter  took  the  place  of  ad- 
miration, and  the  ptiny  lights  of  the  age  were  extinguished.  The 
lyrists  destroyed,  Gifford  next  turned  his  attention  to  the  dram- 
atists of  the  same  class.  In  1794  he  published  the  Maeviad,  an 
imitation  of  the  tenth  satire  of  the  first  book  of  Horace.  The  at- 
tack was  equally  valiant  and  praiseworthy,  but  it  did  not  meet 
with  the  success  which  had  attended  his  first  onslaught.  These 
two  productions  won  for  Gifford  a  high  standing  in  the  literary 
world,  and  it  was  at  once  awarded  to  him.  In  1797  he  became 
connected  with  a  paper  (political)  called  the  "Anti-Jacobin,  or 
Weekly  Examiner,"  and  contributed  some  of  the  best  articles  to 
that  hot-headed  sheet.  Some  of  Gifford's  personal  criticisms 
were  of  the  severest  kind,  especially  when,  in  defending  himself 
from  the  attacks  of  his  numerous  enemies,  he  believed  he  had  the 
right  on  his  side.  Dr.  Wolcot,  better  known  as  Peter  Pindar, 
was  one  of  the  unfortunates  who  fell  deservedly  under  his  lash. 
Wolcot  resolved  to  take  personal  vengeance,  and  proceeded  to  the 
publication  office,  where  he  found  the  object  of  his  revenge.  Hav- 
ing asked  the  gentleman  if  his  name  was  Gifford,  and  having  re- 
ceived an  answer  in  the  affirmative,  he  instantly  aimed  a  blow  at 
that  head  where  the  means  of  his  disgrace  and  anguish  had  been 
conceived.  Mr.  Gifford,  who  was  active  in  body  as  in  mind,  caught 
the  blow  on  his  hand,  wrenched  the  stick  from  his  assailant,  gave 


WILLIAM  GIFFORD.  379 

him  two  smart  strokes  on  the  head,  and  was  proceeding  in  the 
good  work,  when  two  gentlemen  who  unfortunately  happened  to 
be  present  interfered  and  prevented  the  farther  execution  of  jus- 
tice. Peter  was  now  turned,  bleeding  and  bellowing,  into  the 
street,  where  his  clamorous  complaint  soon  drew  around  him  a 
crowd  of  hackney-coachmen  and  other  lovers  of  fun,  to  whom  he 
began  to  relate  his  melancholy  story.  Never  was  discomfort  and 
disgrace  so  complete. 

In  1802  Gilford  published  his  long-expected  translation  of  Ju- 
venal, prefaced  by  an  autobiographical  sketch  of  his  own  early 
life.  It  was  favorably  received  by  the  public,  and  still  ranks  as 
one  of  the  best  translations  of  the  author.  After  a  lapse  of  many 
years  the  translator  added  to  his  Juvenal  a  version  of  the  Satires 
of  Persius.  In  1809  he  became  editor  of  the  Quarterly  Review, 
then  started  for  the  purpose  of  counteracting  the  influence  of  the 
Edinburgh  Review.  For  fifteen  years  he  fulfilled  the  arduous 
duties  of  this  office  with  an  ability  which  gave  to  the  periodical 
a  world-wide  fame.  He  was  entirely  the  man  for  the  place.  His 
ability  was  unquestionable  ;  his  politics  confirmed  and  unswerv- 
ing ;  his  temper  defiant,  and  his  pen  unscrupulous  and  savage. 
The  most  influential  party  leaders  trembled  at  his  word,  and  no 
literary  reputation  was  secure  until  he  had  recognized  it.  There 
are  few  meff  in  the  world  who  can  conscientiously  say  that  they 
are  free  from  prejudices,  and  Gifford  was  not  of  the  number. 
Like  all  men  who  think  for  themselves,  he  had  many  private  con- 
victions, to  which  he  gave  expression  as  general  principles.  His 
prejudices,  however,  were  honest  ones  ;  Tie  was  no  mere  hireling 
scribe ;  his  pen  could  not  be  bought ;  he  wrote  as  he  thought, 
and  always  thought  that  he  wrote  rightly.  "  He  disliked,"  says 
a  friend,  "  incurring  an  obligation  which  might  in  any  degree 
shackle  the  expression  of.his  free  opinion.  Agreeably  to  this,  he 
laid  down  a  rule  from  which  he  never  departed,  that  every  writer 
in  the  Quarterly  should  receive  so  much,  at  least,  per  sheet.  *  On 
one  occasion,  a  gentleman  holding  office  under  government  sent 
him  an  article,  which,  after  undergoing  some  serious  mutilations 
at  his  hands  preparatory  to  being  ushered  into  the  world,  was  ac- 
cepted ;  but  the  usual  sum  being  sent  to  the  author,  he  rejected 
it  with  disdain,  conceiving  it  a  high  dishonor  to  be  paid  for  any 
thing  except  his  place.  Gifford,  in  answer,  informed  him  of  the 
invariable  rule  of  the  Review ;  adding,  that  he  could  send  the 


380  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

money  to  any  charitable  institution,  or  dispose  of  it  in  any  man- 
ner he  should  direct,  but  that  the  money  must  be  pctid.  The 
doughty  official,  convinced  that  the  virtue  of  his  article  would 
force  it  into  the  Review  at  all  events,  stood  firm  to  his  refusal. 
Greatly  to  his  dismay,  the  article  was  returned.  He  revenged 
himself  by  never  sending  another.  Gifford  maintained  that  the 
author's  indignation  was  occasioned  by  the  alterations  he  had 
made  in  the  manuscript." 

In  addition  to  his  various  duties  on  the  Review,  he  found  time 
to  prepare  for  the  press  several  valuable  editions  of  the  old  En- 
glish dramatists,  accompanying  the  letter-press  with  extensive 
notes  and  commentaries,  and  generally  finding  an  opportunity  to 
demolish  some  preceding  edjtor.  The  popularity  of  his  name 
made  these  editions  salable,  and  led  to  a  favorable  pecuniary  re"- 
sult.  His  circumstances  were  now  highly  prosperous.  He  en- 
joyed a  pension  of  four  hundred  pounds  a  year  from  his  former 
pupil,  now  Lord  Grosvenor ;  was  appointed  to  two  sinecure  of- 
fices under  the  government,  bringing  in  about  nine  hundred  pounds 
per  annum ;  and  his  income  from  the  Review,  which,  commenc- 
ing at  two  hundred  pounds  a  year,  speedily  rose  to  nine  hundred. 
Being  of  economical  habits,  it  is  not  surprising  that  he  succeeded 
in  accumulating  a  fortune  of  nearly  twenty-five  thousand  pounds. 
In  1824  Gifford  resigned  the  editorship  of  the  Review ;  he  would 
have  done  so  at  an  earlier  period  if  a  proper  successor  could  have 
been  found.  Infirmities  had  come  heavily  upon  him ;  the  sight 
of  one  eye  was  gone,  and  for  many  years  he  had  been  so  oppress- 
ed by  asthma  as  often  to  be  deprived  of  the  power  of  speech. 
Soon  after  relinquishing  the  editorship,  a  friend  expressed  a  hope 
that  he  might  recover  and  live  several  years ;  to  which  he  re- 
plied, "  Oh  no ;  it  has  pleased  God  to  grant  me  a  much  longer 
life  than  I  had  reason  to  expect,  and  I  am  thankful  for  it ;  but 
two  years  more  is  its  utmost  duration."  His  words  were  pro- 
phetic ;  only  two  years  elapsed  before  he  ceased  to  exist.  Dur- 
ing the  latter  months  of  his  life  his  debility  was  so  extreme  that 
he  was  incapable  of  the  slightest  exertion.  He  expired  calmly 
and 'without  a  struggle  on  the  31st  of  December,  1826.  He  was 
interred  in  Westminster  Abbey.  The  bulk  of  his  property  he  be- 
queathed to  the  Reverend  Mr.  Cookesley,  the  son  of  his  early  ben- 
efactor. 

As  a  satirist,  critic,  and  politician,  Gifford  was  severe  and  un- 


WILLIAM  GIFFORD.  381 

sparing,  and  belonging,  as  he  did,  to  a  party  tenacious  of  pow- 
er, had  frequent  occasions  to  indulge  in  the  harshest  comments ; 
but  in  private  life  he  was  quiet,  retiring,  and  amiable  ;  he  never 
forgot  a  kindness,  and  was  an  unalterable  friend.  In  personal 
appearance  he  was  remarkable,  especially  toward  the  close  of  his 
career,  when,  having  lost  an  eye,  a  double  intensity  appeared  to 
be  imparted  to  the  remaining  one.  He  was  short  in  stature  ;  his 
hair  of  a  remarkably  handsome  brown  color,  and  as  glossy  and 
full  at  the  time  of  his  death  as  at  any  previous  period.  His 
head  was  of  a  very  singular  shape,  being  by  no  means  high,  if 
measured  from  the  chin  to  the  crown,  but  of  unusual  horizontal 
length  from  the  forehead  to  the  back  of  the  head.  His  forehead 
projected  at  right  angles  from  his  face  in  a  very  remarkable  man- 
ner. In  his  habits  he  was  secluded  and  studious ;  not  parsimo- 
nious, but  economical,  and  disposed  to  lay  one  dollar  on  another. 


BENJAMIN    WEST. 

BENJAMIN  WEST,  the  earliest  and  most  renowned  of  American 
painters,  and  an  artist  whose  works  command  the  attention  of 
the  world,  was  a  native  of  Pennsylvania,  and  born  in  Chester 
County,  near  Springfield,  hi  that  state,  on  the  10th  of  October, 
1738.  His  family  were  Quakers,  and  emigrated  from  England 
to  America  in  1699.  Benjamin's  father  remained  in  England  to 
be  educated,  and  did  not  join  his  family  until  he  had  reached  his 
fifteenth  year* 

At  a  very  early  age  Benjamin  gave  evidence  of  art  gifts.  It 
is  related  that,  hi  the  month  of  June,  1745,  when  only  seven 
years  of  age,  he  was  left  to  take  care  of  his  little  niece,  who  lay 
peacefully  slumbering  in  a  cradle  by  his  side.  The  boy-artist  sat 
watching  her.  Presently  the  baby  smiled  in  its  innocent  sleep, 
and  the  supreme  beauty  of  its  arch  tranquillity  filled  young 
Benjamin's  breast  with  admiration.  To  give  this  expression,  he 
seized  a  pen,  and  with  red  and  black  ink  endeavored  to  transfer 
the  beautiful  picture  to  paper.  When  his  mother  returned  she 
was  surprised  and  delighted  at  the  attempt,  and,  with  the  keen 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  383 

eye  of  affection,  detected  a  portrait  of  the  sleeping  infant.  At 
this  time  it  is  said  that  West  had  never  seen  a  picture  or  an  en- 
graving, and  most  assuredly  had  never  beheld  any  one  attempting 
to  copy  the  lineaments  of  nature.  The  latter  part  of  the  anecdote 
is  probably  reliable,  but  the  first  allegation  may  well  be  questioned. 
Soon  after  this  occurrence  Benjamin  was  sent  to  school.  Pen 
and  ink  still  constituted  the  objects  of  his  amusement,  and  we 
may  suppose  that  his  school-books  presented  a  highly  pictorial 
appearance.  From  the  Indians  he  learned  the  use  of  the  red  and 
yellow  colors  with  which  they  painted  their  belts  and  ornaments, 
but  before  this  epoch  in  his  artist  career  he  depended  on  the  most 
sombre  effects.  The  colors  he  used  were  principally  charcoal  and 
chalk,  mixed  with  the  juice  of  berries.  With  these  colors,  laid 
on  with  the  hair  of  a  cat,  drawn  through  a  goose-quill,  when  about 
nine  years  of  age  he  drew  on  a  sheet  of  paper  the  portraits  of  a 
neighboring  family,  in  which  the  delineation  of  each  individual 
was  sufficiently  accurate  to  be  immediately  recognized  by  his 
father  when  the  picture  was  first  shown  to  him.  When  about 
twelve  years  of  age  he  performed  a  more  difficult  task,  and  drew 
a  portrait  of  himself,  with  his  hair  hanging  loosely  about  his 
shoulders.  The  knowledge  which  he  had  gained  from  the  In- 
dians extended  his  field  of  operations,  and  when  he  had  obtained 
possession  of  a  bit  of  indigo,  which  he  coaxed  out  of  his  mother, 
he  had  the  three  primary  colors  to  work  with. 

The  atmosphere  of  a  Quaker  house  is  not  very  congenial  to  the 
development  of  art,  but  West's  parents  appear  to  have  been  liberal- 
minded,  and  worthily  proud  of  their  son.  His  little  productions 
adorned  their  dwelling,  and  attracted  the  attention  of  their  visit- 
ors. In  this  way  the  father  of  General  Wayne  became  acquaint- 
ed with  the  talents  of  the  "lad.  He  was  so  much'  pleased  with 
the  rough  sketches  he  saw  around  him,  that  he  asked  the  privi- 
lege of  taking  some  of  them  home.  The  next  day  he  saw  young 
West,  and  presented  him  with  six  dollars — a  magnificent  sum  to 
his  fervid  imagination.  It  was  to  this  early  reward  that  he  at- 
tributed his  subsequent  artist  career.  Mr.  Wayne  was  not  the 
only  admirer  that  the  youthful  artist  possessed.  A  Mr.  Penning- 
ton,  of  Philadelphia,  who  was  related  to  the  West  family,  paid  a 
visit  one  day,  and  was  astonished  to  find  the  apartments  of  the 
Quaker  hung  with  drawings  of  birds  and  flowers,  executed  with 
native  but  untutored  genius.  To  encourage  the  youth,  he  pre- 


384  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

sen  ted  him  with  a  box  of  colors  and  pencils.  To  these  were  added 
several  pieces  of  canvas  prepared  for  the  easel,  and  six  engravings 
by  Greveling.  Such  a  mine  of  treasure  was  beyond  price  to  the 
young  man.  He  could  not  sleep  for  thinking  of  it,  and  night  and 
day  nursed  the  gift  vith  the  most  extreme  fondness.  Shortly  aft- 
er this  he  went  on  a  visit  to  Philadelphia,  and  for  the  first  time  be- 
held the  impressive  spectacle  of  a  noble  stream  teeming  with  mag- 
nificent shipping.  It  made  a  deep  impression  on  his  young  imagi- 
nation, and  was  the  immediate  cause  of  his  first  composition,  a 
picturesque  view  of  a  river,  with  vessels  floating  on  the  surface, 
and  cattle  pasturing  on  its  banks.  Among  the  other  wonders 
which  he  saw  in  the  city  was  a  picture  by  Williams,  of  Philadel- 
phia, which  astonished  and  delighted  him.  The  perusal  of  the 
works  of  Fresnoy  and  Richardson  did  the  rest.  His  future  des- 
tiny was  fixed  in  his  own  mind — he  would  become  an  artist. 

Returning  to  Springfield  with  the  reputation  of  a  prodigy,  he 
received  many  commissions  to  paint  portraits,  for  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  he  displayed  great  natural  aptitude.  A  gunsmith  of 
the  name  of  William  Henry,  who  was  of  a  literary  turn,  suggested 
to  him  that  he  should  engage  himself  on  something  more  impor- 
tant than  portraits,  and  gave  him  the  subject  of  "  Socrates'  Death" 
as  one  worthy  of  illustration.  West  seized  the  idea,  and  pro- 
duced his  first  historical  picture.  It  attracted  a  good  deal  of  at- 
tention, and  led  to  the  formation  of  many  friendships  which  were 
afterward  of  great  use  to  the  young  painter.  Among  these  was 
that  formed  with  Dr.  Smith,  provost  of  the  college  at  Philadelphia, 
who  was  delighted  to  observe  the  efforts  of  the  young  artist,  and 
offered  to  assist  him  in  gaining  an  education,  the  want  of  which 
he  now  began  to  experience.  The  result  led  to  Benjamin  being 
transferred  to  the  residence  of  his  brother-in-law  in  Philadelphia. 

At  the  age  of  sixteen,  it  was  determined  among  the  friends, 
after  long  deliberations,  that  Benjamin  should  be  allowed  to  cul- 
tivate the  art  of  painting.  In  Philadelphia  he  was  able  to  pur- 
sue his  studies  with  many  advantages.  He  had  free  access  to  all 
the  famous  pictures  of  the  city,  and  was,  of  course,  hugely  de- 
lighted and  impressed  with  what  he  saw,  especially  with  a  Mn- 
rillo  in  Governor  Hamilton's  collection.  It  was  a  St.  Ignatius, 
and  West  copied  it  enthusiastically,  before  he  even  knew  its  au- 
thor or  appreciated  its  art  value.  His  application  at  this  time 
was  so  great  that  his  health  became  impaired,  and  he  was  for  a 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  385 

time  stretched  on  a  bed  of  sickness.  The  room  in  which  he  lay 
was  darkened,  and  the  only  light  that  entered  was  through  the 
cracks  in  the  window-shutters.  An  anecdote  is  related  of  this 
time  which  illustrates  in  a  forcible  manner  his  keen  powers  of 
reasoning  and  observation.  As  he  was  lying  in  bed,  partly  re- 
covered from  a  fever,  he  was  surprised  to  see  "  the  form  of  a 
white  cow  enter  at  one  side  of  the  roof,  and,  walking  over  the  bed, 
gradually  vanish  at  the  other.  The  phenomenon  surprised  him 
exceedingly,  and  he  feared  that  his  mind  was  impaired  by  his  dis- 
ease, whiclfhis  sister  also  suspected,  when,  on  entering  to  inquire 
how  he  felt  himself,  he  related  to  her  what  he  had  seen.  She 
soon  left  the  room,  and  informed  her  husband,  who  accompanied 
her  back  to  the  apartment ;  and  as  they  were  both  standing  near 
the  bed,  West  repeated  the  story,  exclaiming  that  he  saw,  at  the 
very  moment  in  which  he  was  speaking,  several  little  pigs  run- 
ning along  the  roof.  This  confirmed  them  in  the  apprehension 
of  his  delirium,  and  they  sent  for  a  physician  ;  but  his  pulse  was 
regular,  the  skin  moist  and  cool,  the  thirst  abated,  and,  indeed, 
every  thing  about  the  patient  indicated  convalescence.  Still,  the 
painter  persisted  in  his  story,  and  assured  them  that  he  then  saw 
the  figures  of  several  of  their  mutual  friends  passing  on  the  roof, 
over  the  bfd,  and  that  he  even  saw  fowls  picking,  and  the  very 
stones  of  the  street.  All  this  seemed  to  them  very  extraordinary, 
for  their  eyes,  not  accustomed  to  the  gloom  of  the  chamber,  could 
discover  nothing;  and  the  physician  himself,  in  despite  of  the 
symptoms,  began  to  suspect  that  the  convalescent  was  really  de- 
lirious. Prescribing,  therefore,  a  composing  mixture,  he  took  his 
leave,  requesting  Mrs.  Clarkson  and  her  husband  to  come  away 
and  not  disturb  the  patient.  After  they  had  retired  the  artist  got 
up,  determined  to  find  out  the  cause  of  the  strange  apparitions 
which  had  so  alarmed  them  all.  In  a  short  time  he  discovered  a 
diagonal  knot-hole  in  one  of  the  window-shutters,  and  upon  plac- 
ing his  hand  over  it,  the  visionary  paintings  on  the  roof  disap- 
peared. This  confirmed  him  in  an  opinion  that  he  began  to  form, 
that  there  must  be  some  simple  natural  cause  for  what  he  had 
seen,  and  having  thus  ascertained  the  way  in  which  it  acted,  he 
called  his  sister  and  her  husband  into  the  room,  and  explained 
it  to  them."  He  profited  by  this  investigation  ;  made  a  box  with 
one  of  its  sides  perforated,  and  thus,  without  ever  having  heard 
of  the  invention,  contrived  a  camera  obscura. 

K 


386  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

At  Philadelphia  West  obtained  much  employment  as  a  por- 
trait painter,  and  on  the  death  of  his  mother,  which  occurred 
when  he  was  about  the  age  of  eighteen,  established  himself  in  that 
profession,  and  by  his  skill  and  moderate  prices  (he  used  to  charge 
twelve  dollars)  obtained  a  large  number  of  patrons.  Notwith- 
standing the  hard  work  he  performed  in  this  way,  he  found  time 
to  execute  an  original  work  called  "  The  trial  of  Susannah,"  and 
in  this,  as  in  the  "  Death  of  Socrates,"  the  principal  figures  were 
carefully  copied  from  living  models.  From  Philadelphia  West 
went  to  New  York,  still  pursuing  his  profession  withvkergy  and 
success.  During  the  eleven  months  he  passed  in  the  metropolis 
he  painted  another  composition,  entitled  "  A  Student  reading  by 
Candle-light,"  and  then,  having  sufficient  means  for  the  purpose, 
resolved  to  visit  the  classic  shores  of  Italy.  An  opportunity  soon 
occurred  for  taking  ship  to  Leghorn,  in  company  with  a  young 
gentleman,  the  son  of  a  friend,  who  was  going  on  the  voyage  for 
the  benefit  of  his  health.  West  was  engaged  on  the  portrait  of 
Mr.  Kelly,  a  merchant  of  New  York,  when  he  determined  to  sail 
from  Philadelphia.  He  mentioned  his  plan  to  Mr.  Kelly,  who  ap- 
proved it,  paid  him  for  the  picture,  and  gave  him  a  letter  to  his 
agents  in  Philadelphia.  West  presented -the  letter,  and  was  as- 
tonished to  find  that  it  contained  an  order  for  fifty  guineas,  "a 
present  to  aid  in  his  equipment  for  Italy."  We  repeat  this  anec- 
dote as  an  evidence  of  the  good  feeling  and  kindness  which  West 
received  and  undoubtedly  deserved  during  his  long  career.  West 
embarked  in  17GO,  reached  Leghorn  in  safety,  and  immediately 
proceeded  to  Rome,  which  he  entered  on  the  10th  of  July,  1760. 
He  never  returned  to  America. 

West  was  provided  with  excellent  letters  of  introduction1,  and 
was  at  once  introduced  to  Cardinal  Albani,  who,  although  nearly 
blind,  was  considered  a  great  connoisseur.  An  anecdote  is  related 
of  the  first  interview  with  this  potentate,  which  we  give  for  what 
it  is  worth.  The  cardinal  passed  his  hand  over  the  face  of  the 
young  artist,  in  order  to  judge  of  his  features.  He  was  satisfied. 
"  This  young  savage  has  good  features,  but  what  is  his  complex- 
ion ?  Is  he  black  or  white  T'  The  English  gentleman  who  intro- 
duced West  replied  that  he  was  "  very  fair."  "  What !"  cried  the 
astonished  cardinal,  "  as  fair  as  I  am  ?"  The  interrogation  caused 
much  merriment,  the  cardinal  not  being  remarkable  for  his  beauty 
in  this  respect.  When  it  was  found  that  the  young  man  was  nei- 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  387 

ther  black  nor  a  savage,  but  fair,  intelligent,  and  already  an  artist, 
he  became  the  lion. 

One  of  West's  best  advisers  at  this  period  was  Mengs,  a  cele- 
brated painter  of  the  day.  At  his  suggestion,  he  painted  a  por- 
trait of  Mr.  Robinson,  afterward  Lord  Grantham.  JVlengs  found 
much'  to  cpmmend  in  the  effort,  accompanying  his  praise  with 
some  sensible  advice.  "  You  have  already  the  mechanical  part 
of  your  art,"  he  said ;  "  what  I  therefore  recommend  to  you  is, 
examine  every  thing  worthy  of  attention  here,  making  drawings 
of  some  half  dozen  of  the  best  statues ;  then  go  to  Florence,  and 
study  in  the  galleries;  then  proceed  to  Bologna,  and  study  the 
works  of  the  Caracci ;  afterward  visit  Parma,  and  examine  atten- 
tively the  pictures  of  Corregio  ;  and  then  go  to  Venice,  and  view 
the  productions  of  Tintoretto,  Titian,  and  Paul  Veronese.  When 
you  have  made  this  tour,  return  to  Rome,  paint  an  historical  pic- 
ture, exhibit  it  publicly,  and  then  the  opinion  which  will  be  ex- 
pressed of  your  talents  will  determine  the  line  of  art  which  you 
ought  to  follow."  It  was  some  time  before  Mr.  West  was  in  a 
position  to  follow  this  judicious  advice  ;  but,  owing  to  the  liberal- 
ity of  his  friends  in  America,  he  was  at  length  able  to  do  so  under 
the  most  gratifying  circumstances.  He  visited  Florence,  Bologna, 
and  Venicef  and  on  his  return  to  Rome  declared  that  the  Apollo 
of  Belvidere  "  was  the  exact  resemblance  of  a  young  Mohawk 
warrior,"  and  that  the  hieroglyphics  on  the  Egyptian  obelisk  were 
exactly  similar  to  those  which  appear  on  the  wampum  belts  of  the 
Indians.  The  object  of  his  mission  to  Italy  being  now  accom- 
plished, he  began  to  make  preparations  for  returning  to  America, 
but,  previous  to  doing  so,  determined,  in  accordance  with  his  fa- 
ther's wish,  to  visit  England.  Having  passed  through  Savoy  into 
France  (where  he  found  much  to  instruct  him),  Mr.  West  arrived 
in  England  on  the  20th  of  August,  1763. 

In  England  Mr.  West  found  so  much  encouragement  that,  con- 
trary to  his  first  intention,  he  resolved  to  settle  there.  He  became 
acquainted  with  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  and  Mr.  Richard  Wilson, 
the  celebrated  landscape  painter.  He  was  introduced  by  Dr. 
Markham  (afterward  Archbishop  of  York)  to  Dr.  Johnson  and 
Mr.  Burke,  in  the  latter  of  whom  he  recognized  the  features  of 
the  chief  of  the  Benedictine  monks  at  Parma,  and  afterward  dis- 
covered that  they  were  actually  brothers.  In  1765,  Dr.  Newton, 
Bishop  of  Bristol,  engaged  him  to  paint  "  the  Parting  of  Hector 


388  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

and  Andromache  ;"  while  for  Dr.  Johnson,  then  Bishop  of  Wor- 
cester, he  undertook  "  the  Return  of  the  Prodigal  Son."  These 
commissions,  and  others  which  came  to  him,  established  his  posi- 
tion as  a  historical  painter.  It  was  so  far  recognized  that  Lord 
Eockingham  offered  the  rising  artist  an  engagement  of  three  thou- 
sand five  hundred  dollars  a  year  if  he  would  undertake  to  embel- 
lish his  family  mansion  with  pictures.  Liberal  as  was  this  offer, 
West  declined  it,  thinking,  correctly  enough,  that  his  best  patrons 
would  be  the  public.  Feeling  easy  in  his  mind  concerning  his 
future  prospects,  West  consulted  his  heart  on  a  matter  which  had 
engaged  it  for  several  years.  Prior  to  his  departure  from  America 
he  had  contracted  a  sincere  affection  for  a  young  lady  of  the  name 
of  Shewell,  and  had  paid  his  suit  with  such  success  that  he  was 
accepted.  Now  that  the  honors  and  riches  of  the  world  were  at 
his  command,  he  desired  to  make  her  his  wife.  At  first  it  was 
his  intention  to  undertake  a  voyage  to  America  for  the  purpose 
of  effecting  the  marriage,  but  this  was  prevented  by  a  kind  inter- 
position of  his  father,  who  took  the  bride  to  England,  where,  on 
the  2d  of  September,  1765,  she  was  wedded  to  the  man  of  her 
choice. 

Dr.  Drummond,  Archbishop  of  York,  became  one  of  West's 
most  zealous  patrons,  and  for  him  he  painted  the  "  Agrippina 
landing  with  the  ashes  of  Germanicus."  After  hearing  the  pas- 
sage of  Tacitus  in  which  is  described  all  the  circumstances  of 
this  mournful  affair,  and  listening  to  the  remarks  of  the  prelate, 
our  artist  returned  home,  and  composed  a  sketch  for  the  picture, 
which  was  finished  before  going  to  bed.  Next  morning  he  carried 
it  to  the  archbishop,  who  was  both  astonished  and  delighted  to  find 
his  own  ideas  so  forcibly  endorsed  by  West.  Perhaps  for  this  rea- 
son he  became  doubly  attached  to  our  artist,  and  on  the  very  first 
opportunity  introduced  him  to  the  king,  who  graciously  ordered  a 
picture,  "  the  Final  Departure  of  Regulus  from  Rome,"  and  read 
from  Livy  the  passage  which  he  wished  illustrated.  The  friend- 
ship between  the  king  and  West,  thus  commenced,  lasted  for  up- 
ward of  forty  years.  He  was  frequently  invited  to  spend  the 
evening  at  Buckingham  House,  where  he  generally  remained, 
conversing  on  the  best  means  of  promoting  the  study  of  the  fine 
arts.  It  was  in  these  conversations  that  the  plan  of  the  Royal 
Academy  was  first  broached  and  discussed.  An  existing  society, 
known  as  "  the  Society  of  Incorporated  Artiste,"  no  longer  an- 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  389 

swered  the  requirements  of  the  time.  Dissensions  had  occurred, 
and  many  of  the  most  prominent  members  had  withdrawn.  The 
moment  was  propitious ;  the  Royal  Society  was  properly  organ- 
ized, Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  elected  president,  and  on  the  10th  of 
December,  1768,  became  an  established  institution  of  the  country. 
At  the  first  exhibition  of  the  infant  society  West's  "Regulus"  was 
exhibited,  and  obtained  much  applause.  The  king's  next  commis- 
sion was  for  "  Hamilcar  making  his  son  Hannibal  swear  implaca- 
ble enmity  to  the  Romans."  In  the  mean  time  Mr.  West  had 
finished  one  of  his  most  celebrated  pictures,  namely,  "the  Death 
of  Wolfe,"  a  picture  which  has  become  world-wide  in  its  reputa- 
tion, but  which  created  at  the  time  a  sensation  even  beyond  its 
merits.  This  was  owing  to  a  daring  innovation  on  the  customs 
and  usages  of  artists.  Up  to  West's  time  it  was  usual  in  depict- 
ing modern  heroic  pieces  to  costume  the  characters  in  the  flowing 
robes  of  the  ancient  Greek  and  Roman  heroes.  West  dissented 
from  this  time-honored  custom,  and,  in  spite  of  remonstrances 
from  very  high  authorities,  painted  the  death  of  Wolfe  in  the 
dress  of  the  actual  persons.  He  thought  he  should  gain  far  more 
in  the  life  and  truth  of  expression  than  he  should  lose  in  pictur- 
esqueness  and  grace.  The  result  showed  his  sound  judgment. 
Reynolds,  who  had  opposed  the  innovation,  acknowledged  its 
force  and  manliness.  "  West  has  conquered ;  he  has  treated  his 
subject  as  it  ought  to  be  treated';  I  retract  my  objections.  I 
foresee  that  this  picture  will  not  only  become  one  of  the  most 
popular',  but  will  occasion  a  revolution  in  art."  The  picture  did 
become  one  of  the  most  popular,  and  did  occasion  a  revolution  in 
art,  the  good  effects  of  which  we  observe  to  the  present  day. 

It  is  unnecessary  for  the  purposes  of  this  sketch  to  dwell  on 
each  production  of  West's  prolific  pencil.  He  became  firmly  es- 
tablished in  public  favor,  and  each  elaborate  work  which  he  pro- 
duced received  the  instant  attention  of  the  art  world.  The  king's 
admiration  for  the  great  artist  was  unbounded ;  and  when  he  form- 
ed the  design  of  erecting  a  magnificent  oratory  or  private  chapel 
at  Windsor  Castle,  for  the  express  purpose  of  illustrating  the  his- 
tory of  revealed  religion,  West  was  selected  to  fill  the  panels. 
"No  subtle  divine,"  says  Mr.  Cunningham,  "ever  labored  more 
diligently  on  controversial  texts  than  did  our  painter  in  evolving 
his  pictures  out  of  this  grand  and  awful  subject.  He  divided  it 
into  four  dispensations  —  the  Antediluvian,  the  Patriarchal,  the 


390  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

Mosaical,  and  the  Prophetical.  They  contained,  in  all,  thirty-six 
subjects,  eighteen  of  which  belonged  to  the  Old  Testament,  the 
rest  to  the  New.  They  were  all  sketched,  and  twenty-eight  were 
executed,  for  which  West  received,  in  all,  twenty-one  thousand 
seven  hundred  and  five  pounds.  A  work  so  varied,  so  extensive, 
and  so  noble  in  its  nature  was  never  before  undertaken  by  any 
painter." 

On  the  death  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  West  was  unanimously 
elected  President  of  the  Royal  Academy,  and  continued  in  that 
honorable  position  to  the  time  of  his  death.  His  first  discourse 
was  merely  complimentary,  but  subsequently  he  delivered  valua- 
ble dissertations  on  the  principles  of  painting  and  sculpture,  of 
embellishments  and  architecture ;  on  the  taste  of  the  ancients ; 
on  the  errors  of  the  moderns,  and  on  composition  in  general.  He 
concluded  one  of  these  lectures  in  the  following  complimentary 
terms  :  "  That  our  annual  exhibitions,  both  as  to  number  and 
taste,  ingrafted  on  nature  and  the  fruit  of  mental  conception,  are 
such,  that  all  the  combined  efforts  in  art  on  the  Continent  of  Eu- 
rope in  the  same  line  have  not  been  able  to  equal.  To  such  at- 
tainments, were  those  in  power  but  to  bestow  the  crumbs  from 
the  national  table  to  cherish  the  fine  arts,  we  might  pledge  our- 
selves that  the  genius  of  Britain  would  in  a  few  years  dispute 
the  prize  with  the  proudest  periods  of  Grecian  or  Italian  art." 

When  George  the  Third  became  superannuated,  West's  income 
of  a  thousand  pounds  per  year  was  suddenly  stopped,  and  the 
pictures  in  the  chapel  of  "  revealed  religion"  discontinued.  Hav- 
ing thus  lost  the  royal  patronage,  the  president  determined  to  ap- 
peal to  the  public,  and  he  did  so  with  eminent  success.  Some  of 
his  best  pictures  were  put  on  exhibition,  and  crowds  of  people 
went  to  see  them.  One  of  the  most  remarkable  was  the  famous 
picture  of  "  Christ  healing  the  Sick,"  which  was  originally  exe- 
cuted for  the  Philadelphia  Hospital,  but  which  was  subsequently 
purchased  by  the  British  Institution  for  the  sum  of  three  thou- 
sand guineas.  West  parted  with  the  picture  "  on  condition  that 
he  should  be  allowed  to  make  a  copy,  with  alterations."  In  the 
copy  which  he  transmitted  to  Philadelphia,  he  not  only  made  al- 
terations, but  added  an  additional  group.  Its  exhibition  in  the 
United  States  was  attended  with  so  much  success  that  the  com- 
mittee were  actually  enabled  to  enlarge  the  hospital  for  the  re- 
ception of  no  less  than  thirty  additional  patients. 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  391 

The  death  of  Mrs.  West,  which  event  occurred  on  the  10th  of 
December,  1817,  was  a  severe  blow  for  the  aged  artist.  His  own 
health  began  to  decline,  and  his  hand  had  lost  some  of  its  power. 
He  felt  the  blow  severely,  and  never  entirely  recovered  from  its 
effects.  Three  years  later  (llth  of  March,  1820),  he  departed 
this  life  without  any  fixed  complaint,  his  cheerfulness  uneclipsed, 
his  mental  faculties  unimpaired,  and  with  a  mind  serene  and  be- 
nevolent. Mr.  Gait  enables  us  to  enter  into  details  concerning 
this  event :  "  The  last  illness  of  Mr. West  was  slow  and  languish- 
ing. It  was  rather  a  general  decay  of  nature  than  any  specific 
malady;  and  he  continued  to  enjoy  his  mental  faculties  in  per- 
fect distinctness  upon  all  subjects  as  long  as  the  powers  of  artic- 
ulation could  be  exercised.  To  his  merits  as  an  artist  and  a. man 
I  may  be  deemed  partial,  nor  do  I  wish  to  be  thought  otherwise. 
I  have  enjoyed  his  frankest  confidence  for  many  years,  and  re- 
ceived from  his  conversation  the  advantages  of  a  more  valuable 
species  of  instruction,  relative  to  the  arts,  than  books  alone  can 
supply  to  one  who  is  not  an  artist.  While  I  therefore  admit  that 
the  partiality  of  friendship  may  tincture  my  opinion  of  his.  char- 
acter, I  am  yet  confident  that  the  general  truth  of  the  estimate 
will  be  admitted  by  all  who  knew  the  man,  or  are  capable  to  ap- 
preciate the  merits  of  his  works. 

"  In  his  deportment  Mr.  West  was  mild  and  considerate ;  his 
eye  was  keen,  and  his  mind  apt ;  but  he  was  slow  and  methodical 
in  his  reflections,  and  the  sedateness  of  his  remarks  must  often,  in 
his  younger  years,  have  seemed  to  strangers  singularly  at  variance 
with  the  vivacity  of  his  look.  That  vivacity,  however,  was  not 
the  result  of  any  particular  animation  ^of  temperament ;  it  was 
rather  the  illuminations  of  his  genius ;  for,  when  his  features 
were  studiously  considered,  they  appeared  to  resemble  those  which 
we  find  associated  with  dignity  of  character  in  the  best  productions 
of  art.  As  an  artist,  he  will  stand  in  the  first  rank ;  his  name 
will  be  classed  with  those  of  Michael  Angelo  and  Raflfaelle ;  but 
he  possessed  little  in  common  with  either.  As  the  former  has 
been  .compared  to  Homer  and  the  latter  to  Virgil,  in  Shakspeare 
we  shall  perhaps  find  the  best  likeness  to  the  genius  of  Mr.  West. 
He  undoubtedly  possessed  but  in  a  slight  degree  that  energy  and 
physical  expression  of  character  in  which  Michael  Angelo  excelled, 
and  in  a  still  less  degree  that  serene  sublimity  which  constitutes 
the  charm  of  Raffaelle's  great  productions,  but  he  was  their  equal 


392  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

in  the  fullness,  the  perspicuity,  and  the  propriety  of  his  composi- 
tions. In  all  his  great  works,  the  scene  intended  to  be  brought 
before  the  spectator  is  represented  in  such  a  manner  that  the  im- 
agination has  nothing  to  supply.  The  incident,  the  time,  and  the 
place  are  ther.e  as  we  think  they  must  have  been ;  and  it  is  this 
wonderful  force  of  conception  which  renders  the  sketches  of  Mr. 
West  so  much  more  extraordinary  than  his  finished  pictures.  In 
the  finished  pictures  we  naturally  institute  comparisons  in  color- 
ing, and  in  beauty  of  figure,  and  in  a  thousand  details  which  are 
never  noticed  in  the  sketches  of  this  ilhistrious  artist.  But,  al- 
though his  powers  of  conception  were  so  superior,  equal  in  their 
excellence  to  Michael  Angelo's  energy  or  Raffaelle's  grandeur, 
still,  in  the  inferior  departments  of  drawing  and  coloring  he  was 
one  of  the  greatest  artists  of  his  age.  ,  It  was  not,  however,  till 
late  in  life  that  he  executed  any  of  those  works  in  which  he 
thought  the  splendor  of  the  Venetian  school  might  be  judiciously 
imitated.  At  one  time  he  intended  to  collect  his  works  together, 
and  to  form  a  general  exhibition  of  them  all.  Had  he  accom- 
plished this,  the  greatness  and  versatility  of  his  talents  would 
have  been  established  beyond  all  controversy ;  for  unquestionably 
he  was  one  of  those  great  men  whose  genius  can  not  be  justly  esti- 
mated by  particular  works,  but  only  by  a  collective  inspection  of 
the  variety,  the  extent,  and  the  number  of  their  productions." 

Added  to  his  unquestionable  genius,  West  had  diligence  and 
enthusiasm.  He  was  at  once  a  patient  and  an  expeditious  worker. 
At  the  time  of  his  death  he  left  upward  of  four  hundred  paintings 
and  sketches  in  oil,  many  of  them  of  a  large  size,  besides  more 
than  two  hundred  original  drawings  in  his  portfolio.  It  was  cal- 
culated that,  to  exhibit  all  his  productions,  a  gallery  would  Joe  re- 
quired of  four  hundred  feet  in  length,  fifty  in  breadth,  and  forty 
in  height.  West's  pictures  were  sold  after  his  death  for  upward 
of  twenty-five  thousand  pounds.  During  his  life  he  received  large 
sums.  From  1769  to  1779  he  obtained  £4126  for  seventeen  com- 
positions, seven  of  which  were  historical,  and  the  remainder  fam- 
ily portraits.  For  the  religious  subjects  £21,705  were  paid.  For 
eight  subjects  illustrative  of  the  history  of  Edward  the  Third  he 
received  £6930,  while  for  some  miscellaneous  works,  executed  for 
the  same  patron,  he  received  £1426.  These  sums,  which  were 
received  from  the  king  alone,  are  exclusive  of  innumerable  others 
of  equal  importance,  and  amount  in  all,  including  sale,  to  upward 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  393 

of  three  huudred  thousand  dollars.  The  proceeds  of  his  brush 
during  his  residence,  in  England  could  not  have  amounted  to  less 
than  half  a  million  of  dollars. 

West  was  a  kind  and  considerate  countryman  to  all  the  Ameri- 
cans he  met  in  England,  and  felt  genially  toward  the  land  of  his 
birth,  although  the  circumstances  which  had  surrounded  his  life 
led  him  to  look  on  the  Revolutionary  war  with  great  pain,  lie 
had  received  nothing  but  kindness  from  the  mother  country. 
Some  of  his  most  distinguished  pupils  were  Americans,  and  he 
never  failed  to  render  them  all  the  assistance  that  lay  in  his 
power.-  When  Trumbull  was  arrested  during  the  war  by  order 
of  the  British  government,  West  immediately  waited  upon  the 
king,  and  made  known  to  his  majesty  his  pupil's  character  and 
purposes,  and  received  the  assurance  that,  at  all  events,  the  per- 
sonal safety  of  the  prisoner  should  be  fully  attended  to.  When 
Gilbert  Stuart  was  in  London,  a  young  painter  without  resources, 
West  not  only  afforded  him  direct  pecuniary  aid,  but  employed 
him  in  copying,  and  otherwise  assisted  him  in  his  study  of  that 
branch  of  the  art  hi  which  he  afterward  excelled  his  master.  A 
few  weeks  after  Allston's  arrival  in  England  he  was  introduced 
to  Mr.  West,  and  thus  speaks  of  him  in  a  letter :  "  Mr.  West,  to 
whom  I  was  soon  introduced,  received  me  with-  the  greatest  kind- 
ness. I  shall  never  forget  his  benevolent  smile  when  he  took  me 
by  the  hand ;  it  is  still  fresh  in  my  memory,  linked  with  the  last 
of  like  kind  which  accompanied  the  last  shake  of  his  hand  when 
I  took  a  final  leave  of  him  in  1818.  His  gallery  was  open  to  me 
at  all  times,  and  his  advice  always  ready  and  kindly  given.  If 
he  had  enemies,  I  doubt  if  he  owed  them  to  any  other  cause  than 
his  rare  virtue,  which,  alas  for  human  nature,  is  too  often  deemed 
cause  sufficient." 

Mr.  West  was  buried  with  great  pomp  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral, 
beside  the  earthly  remains  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  Opie,  and 
Barry.  The  pall  was  borne  by  noblemen,  embassadors,  and  acad- 
emicians ;  his  two  sons  and  grandson  were  chief  mourners,  and 
sixty  coaches  brought  up  the  splendid  procession. 

K2 


JOHN  FITCH. 

THE  life-stories  of  men  of  genius  are  often  sad,  and  filled  with 
incidents  of  cruelty  and. neglect  which  after-generations  can  only 
deplore.  There  is  none  sadder,  more  truly  pitiable,  than  that  of 
John  Fitch.  He  was  a  man  of  pre-eminent  force  of  character ; 
of  native  genius  ;  of  strength  and  originality.  But  these  charac- 
teristics carried  with  them  restlessness,  impetuosity,  dissatisfac- 
tion, querulousness,  and  defiance.  Such  a  spirit  baffled  its  own 
soarings,  and,  moth-like,  rushed  more  madly  to  destruction  at  the 
first  sensation  of  pain. 

We  have  no  intention  in  this  paper  to  reopen  the  much-dis- 
cussed question  of  "  who  was  the  first  inventor  of  the  steam  yes- 
sel."  In  our  article  on  Fulton  we  have  dropped  into  the  judi- 
cious track  of  most  modern  inquirers,  and  awarded  to  that  illus- 
trious man  the  honor  of  having  first  rendered  steam  navigation 
generally  useful.  On  this  point  there  can  no  longer  be  a  doubt. 
But  if  the  question  of  originality  be  mooted — if  it  be  asked  who 
was  the  most  vigorous  and  original  inventor,  Fulton  or  Fitch,  the 
answer  would,  we  fancy,  be  in  favor  of  Fitch.  The  former  was 
a  perfecter ;  he  took  the  materials  which  already  existed,  and 
blended  them  with  master  hand.  The  latter  was  a  creator ;  he 
shaped  things  in  his  own  mind,  and  brought  them  forth  rudely  fash- 
ioned, but  pregnant  with  undeveloped  strength.  It  has  happen- 
ed in  the  world  before,  and  will  happen  again,  that  the  man  who 
adapts  receives  more  homage  than  he  who  invents.  There  is  a 
common-sense  reason  why  it  should  be  so.  The  mass  of  mankind 
can  not  understand  a  theory ;  their  instruction  must  be  of  a  prac- 
tical character.  He  who  can  impart  this  reaps  the  reward,  even 
though  it  be  merely  an  inculcation  of  the  theory  of  his  predeces- 
sor. 

John  Fitch,  of  whose  sad  life  we  purpose  to  give  a  brief  sketch 
(compiled  chiefly  from  his  own  manuscripts  in  the  Franklin  Li- 
brary of  Philadelphia),  was  born  on  the  21st  of  January,  1743,  old 
style.  His  father  was  a  farmer  in  good  circumstances,  but  of  an 
extremely  harsh  and  parsimonious  disposition.  At  four  years  of 
age  John  was  sent  to  school,  and,  it  is  said,  made  some  little  prog- 


JOHN  FITCH.  395 

ress  in  the  usual  branches  of  an  English  education.  His  father 
did  not  deem  it  necessary  that  he  should  be  taught  more  than  to 
read  and  write,  and,  when  he  had  acquired  these  accomplishments, 
set  him  to  work  on  the  farm.  But  John  was  eager  for  knowl- 
edge, and  greedily  devoured  all  the  books  that  lay  in  his  way. 
When  he  was  eleven  years-  of  age,  he  heard  of  a  volume  which  he 
fancied  would  give  him  a  knowledge  of  the  whole  world — this 
was  Salmon's  Geography.  He  repeatedly  asked  his  father  to  get 
it  for  him  to  no  purpose,  but  the  latter  consented  to  give  him 
some  headlands  at  the  end  of  a  field  in  which  he  might  plant  po- 
tatoes. Our  hero  was  delighted  with  the  prospect  of  earning  the 
money  for  the  coveted  volume,  and  set  to  work  with  such  assi- 
duity that,  when  the  season  came  round  for  disposing  of  his  stock, 
he  collected  the  enormous  sum  of  ten  shillings,  and  intrusted  the 
same  to  a  merchant  who  dealt  in  New  York  to  procure  him  the 
book.  He  did  so ;  but  the  book  cost  twelve  shillings,  and  John 
had  to  run  in  debt  two  shillings,  which  he  says  gave  him  a  great 
deal  of  uneasiness.  He  congratulated  himself  that  he  soon  be- 
came the  best  geographer  of  the  world  that  Connecticut  could  pro- 
duce, according  to  Salmon,  at  that  time. 

Being  of  a  "  stunted"  and  weakly  habit,  which  he  attributed  to 
the  ill  usage  received  from  his  father  and  brother,  Fitch  abandon- 
ed all  idea  of  becoming  an  agriculturist.  Salmon's  Geography 
had  given  him  a  taste  for  travel,  and  he  determined  to  go  "down 
to  the  sea  in  ships."  He  made  a  couple  of  experiments  in  coast- 
ing-sloops ;  but  the  cruelties  and  hardships  of  the  maritime  pro- 
fession discouraged  him,  and  he  abandoned  it.  His  next  experi- 
ment was  in  the  clock-making  business  ;  but  after  two  years'  serv- 
itude, during  which  time  he  was  principally  employed  in  running 
errands,  he  left,  almost  entirely  ignorant  of  the  business.  Fitch 
made  another  attempt  to  learn  it  with  a  brother  of  his  former 
employer ;  but  here,  again,  his  wishes  were  frustrated.  His  em- 
ployer was  jealous  of  the  secrets  of  the  trade ;  worked  in  a  dis- 
tant part  of  the  room  ;  locked  up  his  tools  when  he  had  finished, 
and  forbade  Fitch  to  meddle  with  them  in  any  way.  He  was  ill 
used  in  more  ways  than  this.  "Although  I  possessed  a  small 
appetite,"  he  says,  "  I  never  was  given  sufficient  to  satisfy  it,  ex- 
cept on  one  occasion,  when  I  managed  to  make  a  good  hearty 
meal  on  potatoes.  Being  an  inferior,  I  was  helped  last  at  the  ta- 
ble ;  the  females  would  then  discourse  upon  gluttony,  and  my 


396  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

master,  hastily  devouring  his  own  food,  would  immediately  return 
thanks  for  that  which  himself  and  others  ate,  as  well  as  for  that 
which  his  apprentice  did  not-"  On  leaving  this  curious  specimen 
of  humanity,  he  employed  himself  "  in  doing  small  brass-work," 
being  unable  to  obtain  employment  as  a  journeyman  watch  and 
clock  maker  even  with  his  very  limited  knowledge  of  those  busi- 
nesses, lie  pursued  his  new  vocation  with  industry,  and  at  the 
end  of  two  years  found  himself  the  master  of  fifty  pounds.  A 
portion  of  this  capital  he  embarked  in  the  potash  business,  but 
was  unsuccessful,  owing,  in  a  great  measure,  to  the  unfairness  and 
incapacity  of  one  of  his  partners.  On  the  29th  of  December, 
17G7,  he  entered  into  a  matrimonial  alliance  with  a  Miss  Lucy 
Roberts — a  most  unhappy  match,  their  tempers  being  totally  in- 
compatible. A  separation  soon  became  inevitable,  the  bitterness 
of  which  was  aggravated  by  the  circumstance  that  Mrs.  Fitch  took 
with  her  a  child  whom  he  "loved  as  dear  as  himself!" 

After  this  event  the  subject  of  our  sketch  became  a  wanderer, 
and  roamed  from  city  to  city  in  search  of  occupation.  Unable  to 
procure  this  in  any  familiar  trade,  he  gave  reins  to  his  ingenuity, 
and  became  a  button-maker,  first  at  New  Brunswick,  and  after- 
ward at  Trenton.  He  appears  to  have  been  tolerably  successful. 
During  the  Revolutionary  war  he  repaired  the  arms  of  the  Con- 
tinental army,  became  alternately  the  prisoner  of  the  Indians  and 
of  the  British,  and  was  finally  exchanged,  and  returned  to  the 
Atlantic  towns. 

In  1785  Fitch  first  turned  his  thoughts  to  the  subject  of  steam, 
with  the  intention  of  using  it  as  a  propeller  of  ordinary  carriages 
on  common  roads.  He.  pursued  this  idea,  according  to  his  own 
account,  for  one  week,  gave  it  over  as  impracticable,  and  turned 
liis  attention  to  steam  navigation.  From  that  time  to  the  day  of 
his  death  he  pursued  the  latter  subject  with  unremitting  assiduity. 
"  The  perplexities  and  embarrassments  through  which  it  has  caused 
me  to  wade,"  he  writes,  "  far  exceed  any  thing  that  the  common 
course  of  life  ever  presented  to  my  view ;  and  to  reflect  on  the 
disproportion  of  a  man  of  my  abilities  to  such  a  task,  I  am  to 
charge  myself  with  having  been  deranged,  and,  had  I  not  the  most 
convincing  proofs  to  the  contrary,  should  most  certainly  suppose 
myself  to  have  been  non  compos  mentis  at  the  time."  The  most 
remarkable  evidence  of  the  inventive  genius  of  Fitch  is  found  in 
the  fact  that  the  whole  scheme  of  steam-travel  by  land  and  by 


JOHN  FITCH.  397 

water,  and  also  of  the  steam-engine  itself,  originated  in  his  own 
mind,  and  was  worked  out  by  the  fiery  process  of  independent 
genius.  In  Europe  the  steam-engine  was  simply  known  as  an 
amusing  plaything,  for  the  philosophic  youth,  Watts,  had  not  yet 
developed  its  latent  powers,  or  bridled  them  for  the  use  of  man. 
It  was  therefore  by  no  means  remarkable  that  Fitch  had  not 
heard  of  the  invention.  He  says  himself,  "  I  did  not  know  there 
was  a  steam-engine  on  earth  when  I  proposed  to  gain  a  force  by 
steam,  and  I  leave  my  first  drafts  and  descriptions  behind,  that 
you  may  judge  whether  I  am  sincere  or  not.  A  short  time  after 
drawing  my  first  draft  for  a  boat,  I  was  amazingly  chagrined  to 
find  at  Parson  Irwin's,  in  Buck's  County,  a  drawing  of  a  steam- 
engine  ;  but  it  had  the  effect  to  establish  me  in  my  other  princi- 
ples, as  my  doubts  at  that  time  lay  in  the  engine  only." 

Men  of  capital  are  notorious  for  the  distrust  they  exhibit  to- 
ward inventors.  They  are  too  prone  to  look  on  them  as  mere 
visionaries — men  who  conceive  wild  ideas  of  what  ought  to  be 
rather  than  what  can  be.  It  required  time,  patience,  self-sacrifice, 
and  heart-sickness  to  induce  the  possessors  of  wealth  to  listen  to 
the  schemes  of  a  poor  enthusiast  like  Fitch.  In  time,  however, 
he  succeeded  in  forming  a  small  company  for  carrying  out  his 
plans.  Dr.  Thornton,  who  was  a  member  of  this  company,  has 
given  in  his  "Account  of  the  Origin  of  the  Steam-boat"  an  inter- 
esting narrative  of  the  manifold  difficulties  FitcK  and  his  asso- 
ciates had  to  contend  with,  even  after  they  had  obtained  a  certain 
amount  of  protection  from  state  privileges.  "  We  worked  inces- 
santly at  the  boat  tPbring  it  to  perfection,  and  under  the  disad- 
vantages of  never  having  seen  a  steam-engine  on  the  principles 
contemplated,  of  not  having  a  single  engineer  in  our  company  or 
pay.  We  made  engineers  of  common  blacksmiths,  and,  after 
expending  many  thousand  dollars,  the  boat  did  not  exceed  three 
miles  an  hour.  Finding  great  unwillingness  in  many  to  proceed, 
I  proposed  to  the  company  to  give  up  to  any  one  the  one  half  of 
my  shares  who  would,  at  his  own  expense,  make  a  boat  to  go  at 
the  rate  of  eight  miles  an,  hour,  in  dead  water,  in  eighteen  months, 
or  forfeit  all  the  expenditures  on  failing ;  or  I  would  engage  with 
any  others  to  accept  these  terms.  Each  relinquished  one  half  of 
his  shares,  by  making  the  forty  shares  eighty,  and  holding  only  as 
many  of  the  new  shares  as  he  held  of  the  old  ones,  and  then  sub- 
scribed as  far  as  he  thought  proper  to  enter  on  the  terms,  by 


398  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

which  many  relinquished  one  half.  I  was  among  the  number, 
and  in  less  than  twelve  months  we  were  ready  for  the  experiment. 

"  The  day  was  appointed,  and  the  experiment  made  in  the  fol- 
lowing manner:  a  mile  was  measured  in  Front  (Water)  Street, 
Philadelphia,  and  the  bounds  projected  at  right  angles  as  exactly 
as  could  be  to  the  wharf,  where  a  flag  was  placed  at  each  end, 
and  also  a  stop-watch.  The  boat  was  ordered  under  way  at  dead 
water,  or  when  the  tide  was  found  to  be  without  movement ;  as 
the  boat  passed  one  flag,  it  struck,  and  at  the  same  instant  the 
watches  were  set  off;  as  the  boat  reached  the  other  flag,  it  was 
also  struck,  and  the  watches  instantly  stopped.  Every  precaution 
was  taken  before  witnesses :  the  time  was  shown  to  all ;  the  ex- 
periment declared  to  be  fairly  made,  and  the  boat  was  found  to  go 
at  the  rate  of  eight  miles  an  hour,  or  one  mile  in  seven  minutes 
and  a  half,  on  which  the  shares  were  signed  over  with  great  satis- 
faction by  the  rest  of  the  company.  It  afterward  went  eighty  miles 
in  a  day." 

Notwithstanding  the  extremely  satisfactory  character  of  this 
experiment,  the  company  became  irritated  at  the  continued  out- 
lays, and,  in  the  end,  obstinately  refused  to  continue  the  project. 
We  can  paint  to  ourselves  the  anxiety  and  agony  of  Fitch  as  he 
observed  the  shareholders  one  by  one  withdrawing  from  the  con- 
cern. The  consciousness  of  truth  was  all  that  sustained  him  ;  he 
knew  that  he  was  not  pursuing  a  chimera.  In  1792,  when  the 
boat  and  his  hopes  appeared  to  be  docked  forever,  he  wrote  a 
letter  to  Mr.  Eittenhouse  containing  this  memorable  prophecy: 
"  This,  sir,  will  be  the  mode  of  crossing  fne  Atlantic  in  time, 
whether  I  bring  it  to  perfection  or  not."  His  enthusiasm  on  the 
subject  never  diminished  for  one  moment.  Steam  was  the  con- 
stant theme  of  his  discourse  whenever  he  could  prevail  upon  any 
one  to  listen  to  him.  Upon  one  occasion  he  called  on  a  smith 
who  had  worked  at  his  boat,  and,  after  dwelling  some  time  upon 
his  favorite  topic,  concluded  with  these  words:  "Well,  gentlemen, 
although  I  shall  not  live  to  see  the  time,  you  will,  when  steam- 
boats will  be  preferred  to  all  other  means  of  conveyance,  and 
especially  for  passengers ;  and  they  will  be  particularly  useful  in 
navigating  the  River  Mississippi."  He  then  retired,  when  a  per- 
son present  observed,  in  a  tone  of  deep  sympathy,  "  Poor  fellow  ! 
what  a  pity  he  is  crazy  /" 

In  the  winter  of  1792-1793,  Fitch  crossed  the  Atlantic  on  a 


JOHN  FITCH.  399 

visit  to  France,  whither  he  went  warmly  commended,  and  with 
strong  hopes  of  success.  He  was  cordially  received  by  the  gov- 
ernment, and  assistance  was  offered  to  him.  His  usual  ill  luck 
interposed,  however.  Throes  of  the  approaching  revolution  dis- 
tractednthe  attention  of  the  ministers,  and  poor  Fitch  was  laid 
aside  for  subjects  of  political  importance.  Dejected,  and  with 
scarcely  a  hope  left,  he  crossed  the  Channel  to  London,  and.  with- 
out accomplishing  any  thing  in  that  metropolis,  soon  afterward  re- 
turned to  his  native  land,  so  poor  that  he  had,  it  is  said,  to  work 
his  way  home  as  a  common  sailor.  He  landed  in  Boston  in  1794 
in  utter  destitution,  and,  but  for  the  hospitality  of  a  brother-in- 
law,  might  have  perished  from  actual  want.  Three  years  later  he 
made  a  journey  to  the  "West,  to  see  after  some  grants  of  lands 
which  had  been  made  to  him  for  services  rendered  to  the  State 
of  Kentucky  as  a  surveyor,  a  knowledge  of  which  business  Fitch 
imbibed  while  residing  on  his  father's  farm.  These  grants  had 
been  long  neglected,  and,  as  many  settlements  had  been  made  on 
them,  it  was  not  without  difficulty  that  he  obtained  possession  of 
them.  A  number  of  suits  had  to  be  instituted,  and  the  delays 
and  uncertainties  of  the  law  contributed  to  his  other  vexations. 
He  became-^rascible  and  eccentric,  dressed  himself  in  a  peculiar 
way,  and  excited  the  observation  of  the  passers-by.  His  health 
began  to  decline ;  he  was  easily  irritated,  and,  when  touched  on 
the  subject  of  steam  navigation,  expressed  himself  with  a  warmth 
which  exposed  him  to  the  ridicule  of  the  idle  and  unfeeling. 
"  When  excited  by  his  theme,"  says  Mr.  Whittlesey,  in  his  biog- 
raphy, "  his  power  over  language  was  great,  his  remarks  power- 
ful, eloquent,  and  convincing ;  but  he  asserted,  and  perhaps  truly, 
that  the  generation  in  which  he  lived  was  incapable  of  compre- 
hending his  invention.  His  expectations  were  fixed  upon  poster- 
ity ;  and  with  an  abiding  confidence  that  the  steam-boat  would 
bless  and  astonish  his  successors,  he  reserved  for  them  that  fame 
which  he  was  not  disposed  to  ask,  but  to  demand.  It  was  with 
such  sentiments  that  he  inclosed  the  manuscripts  and  drawings 
presented  to  the  Philadelphia  Library,  and  left  an  injunction  that 
they  should  not  be  opened  until  thirty  years  after  his  death." 

He  appears  to  have  lost  all  hope  from  this  time.  Weary,  and 
anxious  for  the  rest  which  the  grave  could  alone  give,  he  aban- 
doned himself  to  habits  of  obliviousness,  fully  conscious  that  they 
would  soon  lead  him  to  "that  bourne  whence  no  traveler  re- 


400  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

turns."  In  June,  1798,  he  executed  his  last  will  and  testament, 
and  in  July  following  it  was  admitted  to  probate.  His  death  was 
in  one  or  other  of  the  two  months — which  is  not  known.  The 
landlord  of  the  inn  where  he  resided  procured  a  cherry  coffin  for 
the  remains  of  his  unfortunate  boarder,  and,  attended  by  a  few 
friends,  carried  it  to  the  church-yard  of  Bardstown.  No  monu- 
ment, no  headstone,  no  rough  tablet  carved  by  hands  of  affection " 
marked  the  spot,  and  in  a  little  while  it  was  forgotten. 

Fitch  was  a  man  of  uncommon  stature,  being  six  feet  two  inch- 
es in  height,  erect  and  full  in  carriage,  his  head  slightly  bald,  but 
not  gray,  his  manner  dignified,  distant,  and  imposing.  His  coun- 
tenance was  pleasing,  with  an  eye  remarkably  black  and  piercing. 
"  To  strangers  his  manners  had  never  been  prepossessing,  but  to 
men  of  intelligence,  who  could  comprehend  his  projects,  he  proved 
a  most  interesting  companion.  As  a  friend,  he  was  faithful  and 
devoted  while  the  friendship  lasted,  carrying  his  efforts  in  behalf 
of  others  beyond  the  line  of  worldly  prudence." 

Misfortune  pursued  Fitch  even  after  death.  A  number  of  pa- 
•pers,  drawings,  etc.,  to  which  he  referred  as  evidence  of  the  orig- 
inality and  priority  of  his  plans,  were  destroyed  by  fire,  and  the 
first  model  of  his  steam-boat,  made  in  1785,  has  been  lost,  so  that 
his  claims  as  an  original  inventor  are  always  liable  to  be  disputed, 
especially  as  the  fire  in  the  Patent-  Office  destroyed  many  other 
proofs  of  his  originality.  Truly  a  more  unfortunate  man  has 
never  lived. 


PATRICK  HENRY. 

WHEN  we  take  up  the  newspaper  of  a  morning,  and  find  the 
first  page  filled  with  a  closely-printed  speech  of  some  aspiring  or- 
ator, who  does  not,  perhaps,  much  interest  us,  we  are  very  apt  to 
lay  the  sheet  aside  and  say  there  is  nothing  in  it,  indifferent  to 
the  fact  that  a  hundred  years  hence  it  will  be  prized  as  a  docu- 
ment of  inestimable  value.  The  appetite  for  long  speeches  belongs 
to  the  past  or  to  the  future,  and  can  only  be  aroused  in  the  present 
day  by  events  of  vital  importance  to  the  Commonwealth,  and  then 
only  by  men  of  the  highest  intellectual  capacity.  The  newspaper 
editor  has  to  a  terrible  extent  superseded  the  orator,  and  makes  a 
paragraph  where  of  old  our  grandfathers  made  a  speech.  Every 
thing  is  brief  and  rapid,  to  suit  the  rail-road  speed  of  the  age. 
Oratory  in  its  pure  state — that  is  to  say,  the  spontaneous  utter- 
ance of  noble  thoughts  and  magnificent  images  as  the  symbolical 
representatives  of  coarser  things,  is  almost  unknown  to  us.  If  a 
man  wants  to  make  a  long  speech  now,  he  toils  at  it  in  the  closet, 
builds  it  on  the  most  raking  and  logical  model,  rivets  it  with 
sharp-pointed  facts,  and  takes  good  care  not  to  launch  it  on  the 
stormy  waters  of  debate  before  it  is  thoroughly  sound  and  sea- 


402  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

worthy.  The  newspapers  print  it  at  length  in  one  column,  and 
condense  it  in  another,  so  that,  like  Webster's  Dictionary,  the  stu- 
dent can  either  take  it  in  bulk  or  in  miniature.  No  arrangement 
could  be  more  happy.  The  time-pressed  merchant  gets  the  points 
from  the  editorial  summary,  and  the  historian  gets  the  substance 
in  the  verbatim  report.  What  if  a  few  people  do  go  to  sleep  over 
the  latter  ?  Is  there  any  thing  more  comfortable  than  being  talk- 
ed to  sleep? 

It  was  far  different  in  the  days  of  Patrick  Henry — a  great  man, 
whose  marvelous  powers  of  oratory  were  exercised  at  a  time  when 
men's  eyes  gazed  earnestly  into  the  inspired  face  of  the  orator, 
and  men's  thirsty  souls  panted  for  words  of  patriotism.  There 
were  no  newspapers  then  to  cool  down  the  enthusiasm  of  the  ora- 
tion by  after-breakfast  comments  on  it.  People  came  from  afar 
to  hear  it  fresh  from  the  speaker's  lip,  for  that  was  the  only  fount 
at  which  it  could  be  quaffed  in  its  purity.  They  crowded  the 
court-house  in  anticipation  of  the  event.  They  endured  the  press- 
ure of  contending  thousands,  and  considered  themselves  fortunate 
if  they  were  rewarded  with  a  glimpse  of  the  orator,  and  caught  a 
lew  of  his  glowing  sentences.  They  were  dragged  out  fainting  to 
the  open  air,  and  were  again  newly  stifled  by  eager  crowds  press- 
ing around  them  to  hear  by  repetition  what  could  not  otherwise 
be  enjoyed.  Every  auditor,  in  fact,  was  a  sort  of  newspaper,  and 
circulated  his  report  to  the  best  of  his  ability.  He  was  at  once 
a  man  of  influence  and  consideration.  People  stopped  him  at  the 
street  corner  with  courtesies  to  betray  him  into  copiousness.  If 
he  came  from  the  country,  his  return  home  was  little  else  than  a 
triumphal  progress  attended  with  all  sorts  of  ovations  and  hos- 
pitalities. 

And  the  orator,  what  was  he  1  In  the  days  of  Patrick  Henry 
he  was  the  power.  There  were  but  few  newspapers,  and  they 
were  dry  and  unreliable.  The  orator  supplied  their  place  with 
liberality  and  the  inspiration  of  life.  His  opinions,  if  they  were 
not  always  in  advance  of  the  day,  were  tinctured,  at  least,  with  all 
the  day  could  supply.  He  inculcated  them  with  the  earnestness 
of  a  prophet,  and  his  personal  influence  was  commensurate  with 
the  impression  he  was  capable  of  making  on  his  hearers.  It  can 
scarcely  be  estimated  now.  The  many-tinted  rays  of  individual 
opinion  which  are  brought  to  bear  on  public  topics,  resulting  from 
the  habit  of  critical  scrutiny  and  suspicion,  detract  from  the  indi- 


PATRICK  HENRY.  403 

vidual  light  which  the  modern  orator  can  throw  on  them,  no  mat- 
ter how  brightly  it  may  shine.  DEMOSTHENES  and  CICERO  would 
find  it  difficult  to  preserve  their  reputation — at  all  events,  their 
popularity,  in  these  times.  The  newspapers  would  handle  them 
with  the  dreadful  weapons  of  common  sense,  and  would  batter 
their  tropes  and  figures  about  their  heads.  But  their  speeches 
would  be  reported  with  marvelous  accuracy,  and  the  future  his- 
torian could  turn  to  them  with  the  certainty  of  finding  ample  ma- 
terial for  forming  his  own  judgment  of  the  merits  of  earlier  crit- 
icism. 

It  is  the  absence  of  this  invaluable  record  that  we  have  most 
to  regret  in  treating  the  life  of  Patrick  Henry.  We  know  by 
the  influence  he  had  on  his  times  that  he  was  one  of  the  most  ex- 
traordinary orators  the  world  has  ever  produced,  but  unfortunate- 
ly this  knowledge  is  based  entirely  on  tradition.  We  can  not  fur- 
nish an  adequate  specimen  of  his  matchless  eloquence.  "  The  few 
imperfect  reports  of  his  speeches  that  have  been  handed  down  to 
us  are  evidently  wretched  reflexes  of  the  burning  language  the 
orator  employed.  We  shall  endeavor  to  use  these  to  the  best  ad- 
vantage, but  the  reader  must  never  forget  that  they  are  entirely 
inadequate  tg  the  reputation  of  Patrick  Henry.  We  can  only 
judge  of  the  eminence  of  that  great  man  by  the  mighty  influence 
he  exercised  on,  and  the  concurrent  testimony  of  his  contempora- 
ries. Jefferson,  whose  opinion  is  sufficient  to  endorse  every  tra- 
dition, says  that  "  he  was  the  greatest  orator  that  ever  lived," 
and  "  the  person  who,  beyond  all  question,  gave  the  first  impulse 
to  the  movement  which  terminated  in  the  Revolution  ;"  sufficient, 
in  all  reason,  to  interest  the  American  reader  in  the  biography  we 
are  about  to  write. 

PATRICK  HENRY  was  the  second  son  of  John  and  Sarah  Henry, 
and  one  of  a  family  of  nine  children.  He  was  born  on  the  29th 
of  May,  1736,  at  the  family  seat  called  Studley,  in  Hanover  Coun- 
ty, Virginia.  His  father,  John  Henry,  was  a  native  of  Aberdeen, 
Scotland,  and  emigrated  to  Virginia  about  the  year  1730.  He 
was  followed,  some  years  after,  by  his  brother  Patrick,  a  clergy- 
man of  the  Church  of  England.  Both  brothers  were  remarkable 
for  their  loyalty  to  the  king  and  his  church.  John  Henry  mar- 
ried the  widow  of  Colonel  Syme,  a  native  of  Hanover  County, 
and  daughter  of  the  family  of  Winston,  a  lady  remarkable  for  the 
ease  and  brilliancy  of  her  conversational  powers.  Shortly  after 


404  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

Patrick  Henry's  birth  the  family  removed  to  another  seat  in  the 
same  county,  then  called  Mount  Brilliant,  now  The  Ketreat.  His 
parents  were  by  no  means  wealthy,  but  they  were  comfortably 
situated,  and  by  the  exercise  of  economy  could  make  both  ends 
meet  hi  a  genteel  way.  They  moved  in  the  best  society,  and 
were  on  intimate  terms  with  all  the  big  guns  of  the  colony.  Pat- 
rick was  sent  to  an  "  Oldfield"  school,  to  keep  him  out  of  mis- 
chief, until  he  was  ten  years  of  age,  and  then,  having  acquired  the 
elements  of  learning,  was  taken  home  to  prosecute  his  studies  un- 
der the  care  of  his  father.  It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty 
that  the  rudiments  of  the  Latin  tongue  were  implanted  in  his 
mind,  and  with  still  greater  difficulty  that  he  mastered  the  crook- 
ed characters  of  the  Greek  alphabet,  beyond  which  he  never  pro- 
ceeded. He  was  a  very  idle  scholar,  and  never  put  his  heart  in 
his  studies.  They  were  tasks  to  him  in  the  severest  sense  of  the 
word,  an(L  he  flew  from  them  with  delight.  The  only  study  for 
which  he  seems  to  have  had  some  kind  of  liking  was  the  mathe- 
matics, in  which  he  is  said  to  have  made  considerable  progress. 
It  is  certain,  however,  that  for  five  years  he  made  but  feeble  ef- 
fort to  cultivate  his  mind.  When  fourteen  years  old  (1750),  he 
accompanied  his  mother  in  a  carriage  to  hear  Samuel  L)avies 
preach,  whose  eloquence,  it  is  said,  made  a  deep  impression  on  his 
mind.  This  orator  was  celebrated  for  his  patriotic  sermons,  and 
it  is  more  than  probable  that  he  first  Tdndled  the  fire  and  afford- 
ed the  model  of  Henry's  elocution.  Throughout  his  lifetime  Hen- 
ry declared  that  he  always  held  Davies  to  be  the  greatest  orator 
he  had  ever  heard. 

His  personal  appearance  at  this  tune  is  described  as  coarse, 
and  his  manners  awkward,  his  dress  neglected,  and  his  faculties 
entirely  obscured  by  habitual  indolence.  In  mixed  companies  he 
contributed  little  or  nothing  to  the  conversation — a  good  sign,  for 
it  showed  that  he  was  modest.  He  preferred  listening  to  the  talk 
of  others,  and  never  failed  to -improve  himself  by  it.  He  possess- 
ed, like  all  great  men,  a  fine  memory,  and  could  easily  recall  what 
had  been  said  by  any  speaker.  One  of  his  most  favorite  amuse- 
ments was  to  analyze  the  characters  of  his  friends,  and  observe  in 
what  respects  they  differed  from  each  other.  Patrick  Henry's 
character  at  this  time  may  be  summed  up  in  few  words.  He  was 
a  modest,  observant  man,  fond  of  seeing  every  thing  and  of  hear- 
ing every  thing,  but  bashful,  and  afraid  of  thrusting  himself  for- 


PATRICK  HENRY.  405 

ward.  U«like  most  young  men,  he  was  utterly  indifferent  to 
dress  ;  a  new  coat  had  no  charm  in  his  eye ;  and  at  any  time 
he  would  rather  have  had  a  new  fish-line  than  a  new  pair  of  shoe- 
buckles.  He  was  nearly  six  feet  high,  spare  and  raw-boned,  with 
a  slight  stoop  in  the  shoulders.  His  complexion  was  dark  and 
sallow,  and  his  general  expression  grave,  thoughtful,  and  pene- 
trating. 

Such  was  Patrick  Henry  at  the  age  of  fifteen.  Finding  that 
he  was  not  likely  to  make  much  progress  in  literary  or  profes- 
sional pursuits,  his  father  undertook  to  establish  him  in  trade. 
It  was  a  very  common  mistake  in  those  days,  and  even  in  these, 
to  suppose  that  a  less  amount  of  shrewdness  was  needed  for  the 
conduct  of  a  business  than  for  the  pursuit  of  a  profession.  After 
a  year's  drilling  in  the  counting-room  of  a  neighboring  merchant, 
Patrick  and  his  brother  William  opened  a  small  store.  It  is  not 
easy  to  imagine  a  firm  with  less  practicability  at  its  disposal. 
The  confinement  soon  began  to  annoy  Patrick,  and  he  relieved  it 
as  much  as  possible  by  making  the  store  the  gathering-place  of  all 
the  gossips  in  the  town.  The  class  of  people  who  patronized  him 
were  careless  and  often  unprincipled,  depending  more  on  their 
power  of  persuasion  than  on  their  reputation  for  credit.  Neither 
Patrick  nor  his  brother  were  good  at  making  bargains — indeed, 
the  latter  seems  to  have  been  more  helplessly  indolent  and  inca- 
pable than  the  former.  In  about  a  year  the  concern  failed.  Will- 
iam retired  at  once,  while  Patrick  was  employed  for  two  or  three 
years  afterward  in  bringing  it  to  a  close.  Considering  the  short 
time  it  had  run,  it  required  a  great  deal  of  winding  up.  All  the 
future  orator  had  gained  by  his  first  adventure  in  commerce  was 
a  knowledge  of  the  violin  and  flute,  which  (impressed  with  the 
necessity  of  amusing  himself)  he  had  studied  in  business  hours — 
rather  expensive  accomplishments,  one  would  think. 
.  At  the  age  of  eighteen  he  married  a  Miss  Skelton,  the  daughter 
of  a  poor  but  honest  farmer  in  the  neighborhood.  Young  Henry 
was  now,  by  the  joint  assistance  of  his  father  and  father-in-law, 
started  in  life  again.  Trade  having  failed,  it  was  determined  to 
try  agriculture.  He  was  furnished  with  a  small  farm,  and  also 
one  or  two  slaves  to  assist  him  in  cultivating  it.  But  it  was  of 
no  use.  His  want  of  skill,  his  indolent  habits,  and  his  aversion 
to  systematic  labor  of  any  kind,  still  pursued  him.  After  an  ex- 
periment of  two  years  he  sold  off  his  farm  at  a  sacrifice,  and  once 


406  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

more  embarked  every  thing  in  merchandise.  But,  un|prtunately, 
lie  had  not  forgotten  his  former  method  of  conducting  business. 
The  flute  and  the  violin  were  again  called  into  requisition ;  all 
the  idle  politicians  of  the  place  gathered  on  t^e  old  spot ;  and  oc- 
casionally the  store  would  be  shut  up  altogether,  when  his  favor- 
ite sports  in  the  open  air  called  him  forth.  For  the  latter  he  al- 
ways had  the  most  passionate  love,  and,  strange  to  say,  preferred 
pursuing  them  alone.  He  would  lie  for  hours,  beneath  the  shad- 
ow of  a  tree,  watching  with  the  calm  earnestness  of  a  sportsman 
for  the  expected  bite,  or,  gun  in  hand,  would  wait  in  the  same 
still  manner  for  a  chance  shot  at  a  passing  deer.  Whether  it  was 
a  contemplative  habit,  or  simply  a  lazy  one,  that  made  him  like 
this  kind  of  quiet  sport,  it  is  impossible  to  say.  Under  such  man- 
ifold disadvantages,  it  is  not  remarkable  that  his  second  mercan- 
tile experiment  turned  out  even  more  disastrous  than  his  first. 
He  was  now  thrown  upon  the  world  not  only  with .  a  mass  of 
debts  upon  his  shoulders,  but  with  a  wife  to  support,  and  with 
relations  who  certainly  could  not  be  pleased  with  his  conduct, 
or  disposed  to  assist  him  again.  It  is  probable  that  he  felt  the 
degradation  to  which  a  course  of  mere  selfish  indolence  had  re- 
duced him.  Idleness  and  its  necessary  associations  had  twice 
brought  him  to  bankruptcy ;  and  now,  in  his  twenty-fourth  year, 
he  was  absolutely  without  the  means  of  making  a  living.  It  is 
from  this  crisis  that  he  belongs  to  our  biographies  of  "self-made 
men."  He.  had  sacrificed  all  the  advantages  of  favorable  birth 
and  early  associations,  and  had  paid  the  penalty  of  wanton  loss 
of  time  and  indolence.  Most  men,  under  such  circumstances, 
would  have  sunk  beneath  the  load  of  ignominious  misfortune  ;  but 
Henry  determined  to  bear  up  against  it,  and  commence  the  world 
anew.  Notwithstanding  his  ill  luck  in  trade,  he  was  undoubted- 
ly a  stronger  man  for  the  contests  of  the  world  now  than  at  any 
former  period  of  his  life.  He  had  gained  that  most  expensive  of 
all  knowledge,  the  knowledge  of  mankind.  He  knew  thoroughly 
the  habits  and  feelings  of  those  by  whom  he  was  surrounded,  and 
could  adapt  his  sail  to  the  first  wind  which  should  blow  him  for- 
tune. He  had  many  friends  too.  They  might  shake  their  heads 
when  his  name  was  mentioned,  and  say  that  he  was  a  good-for- 
naught,  but  for  all  that  they  were  willing  to  help  him  along  when- 
ever the  opportunity  occurred  for  doing  so,  for  they  knew  that  he 
was  no  man's  enemy  but  hi?  own. 


PATKICK  HENRY.  407 

While  he  was  engaged  in  his  second  mercantile  experiment  he 
cultivated  a  taste  for  reading,  and  studied  attentively  the  geog- 
raphy, history,  and  political  memorials  of  his  native  state,  the  his- 
torians of  Greece  and  Rome,  and,  in  particular,  the  English  trans- 
lation of  Livy.  The  latter,  indeed,  was  a  kind  of  manual  with 
him,  and  he  never  failed  to  read  it  at  least  once  a  year. 

After  his  second  failure,  Henry  was,  as  we  have  seen,  entirely 
thrown  on  the  world.  His  young  wife  returned  to  the  house  of 
her  father,  who  was  now  the  proprietor  of  a  small  hotel  at  Han- 
over Court-house.  It  is  probable  that  Patrick  accompanied  her, 
and  to  this  circumstance  may  be  traced  the  oft-repeated  asser- 
tion that  he  was,  for  a  portion  of  his  life,  at  least,  a  bar-tender. 
The  biographers  do  not  dwell  on  this  event  with  proper  attention. 
It  was  the  cause,  undoubtedly,  of  all  his  later  career;  for  it 
was  while  in  this  humble  station  that  he  first  came  in  contact 
with  members  of  the  legal  profession  who  frequented  the  court- 
house, and  thus,  as  it  were,  gained  an  insight  into  the  mysteries 
of  their  vocation.  There  must  have  been  small  and  great  lawyers 
in  those  days  as  now,  and  Henry  no  doubt  fancied  that  if  he 
could  not  be  the  one,  he  might,  at  least,  rival  the  shrewdness  of 
the  other.  He  therefore  determined  to  embrace  the  legal  profes- 
sion without  delay.  He  had  several  inducements.  His  father 
was  on  the  bench ;  his  father-in-law  in  a  position  to  influence  a 
considerable  number  of  small  clients,  and  he  himself  popular  with 
the  masses. 

Henry's  preparation  for  the  new  profession  did  not  give  prom- 
ise of  future  excellence.  He  devoted  to  this  study  the  ridicu- 
lously brief  period  of  six  weeks,  and  then  presented  himself  to  the 
examiners  for  license  to  practice.  He  met  with  some  opposition, 
but,  by  the  exercise  of  some  tact  and  persuasion  (for  both  of  which 
he  was  remarkable),  he  succeeded  in  getting  a  license.  For  three 
years  after  this  he  devoted  himself  to  the  interests  of  the  few  cli- 
ents who  would  trust  their  causes  to  his  hands.  He  was  thus 
able  to  make  a  scanty. living,  and  for  the  first  time  to  taste  the 
sweet  reward  of  honest  industry.  He  was  economical,  and  this 
important  change  in  his  habits  induced  many  of  his  former  friends 
to  assert  that  he  grew  mean  in  his  old  age.  The  truth  of  the 
matter  was  simply  that  he  had  learned  the  value  of  money  in  the 
hard  and  bitter  school  of  poverty. 

The  first  cause  that  brought  Henry  prominently  before  the  pub- 


408  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

lie,  made  him,  at  the  same  time,  famous.  This  was  none  other 
than  the  celebrated  Parsons'  Cause.  The  Parsons'  Cause  was  an 
action  by  the  Reverend  James  Maury  against  the  collector  of  tax- 
es for  Hanover  County  and  his  sureties,  for  the  recovery  of  dam- 
ages for  the  non-payment  of  a  certain  quantity  of  tobacco  alleged 
to  be  due  to  him  on  account  of  his  salary.  The  action  sprung 
out  of  a  warm  controversy  which  had  lately  arisen  between  the 
clergy  and  the  rate-payers  of  the  colony.  The  Church  of  En- 
gland was  at  this  time  the  legal  church  establishment,  and,  by  an 
early  act  of  the  Assembly,  the  salary  of  each  minister  was  fixed 
at  16,000  pounds  of  tobacco ;  or  if,  for  convenience,  they  preferred 
to  have  cash,  they  could  take  16,000  twopences  ($640) — two- 
pence per  pound  being  the  ordinary  price  of  tobacco.  The  clergy 
were  in  the  habit  of  commuting  the  delivery  of  the  article  in  kind 
for  a  money  payment  calculated  on  this  standard.  They  had  a 
right,  however,  by  virtue  of  a  statute  of  the  colony,  to  demand 
payment  in  the  article  itself,  if  they  felt  so  disposed.  It  was  in 
view  of  this  right  that  the  Reverend  Mr.  Maury  brought  his  ac- 
tion, and  the  reason  why  he  was  anxious  to  claim  the  right  was 
simply  this :  the  crop  of  tobacco  had  fallen  short,  and  the  price 
had  greatly  risen  in  consequence.  The  clergy  claimed  the  ad- 
vantage of  this  fluctuation  in  the  market,  and  contended  that  the 
planters  had  no  right  to  receive  fifty  or  sixty  shillings  a  hundred 
for  their  tobacco,  while  they  paid  their  debts  due  in  that  article  at 
the  old  price  of  sixteen  shillings  and  eightpence.  There  was  a 
side  issue  concerning  the  validity  of  an  act  of  the  Legislature,  but 
it  is  unimportant  for  our  purposes.  The  popular  feeling  was 
strongly  in  favor  of  the  planters  and  against  the  clergy.  It  was 
on  behalf  of  the  former  that  Mr.  Henry  held  his  brief.  The  suit 
against  the  collector  of  the  county  was  gained  by  the  clergy  be- 
fore Mr.  Henry  had  any  thing  to  do  with  it,  and  the  question  now 
was  merely  as  to  the  amount  of  damages.  The  leading  counsel 
•of  the  planters  left  Mr.  Henry  to  argue  the  question  at  the  next 
court,  imagining,  in  all  probability,  that  -no  farther  victory  was 
to  be  achieved  worthy  his  steel.  The  case  came  on  for  trial  on 
the  1st  of  December,  1763,  before  the  County  Court  of  Hanover, 
in  which  the  father  of  Henry  sat  as  presiding  magistrate.  The 
clergy  appeared  in  full  force,  and  the  position  of  the  young  bar- 
rister became  in  the  highest  degree  embarrassing,  not  only  be- 
cause he  had  to  speak  in  open  court  before  hi?  father  as  presid- 


PATRICK  HENRY.  409 

ing  magistrate,  but  because  he  had  to  stretch  his  unfledged  wings 
in  an  atmosphere  already  darkened  by  defeat.  Among  the  clergy 
who  came  to  hear  the  argument  was  the  Rev.  Patrick  Henry,  un- 
cle to  oip  orator,  who  had  himself  commenced  a  suit  against  the 
collector,  and  who  was,  therefore,  peculiarly  and  pecuniarily  inter- 
ested in  the  result  of  the  proceedings.  The  fact  that  Henry  was 
not  employed  by  his  uncle  is  a  sufficient  proof  that  little  was  ex- 
pected of  him,  even  by  those  who  knew  him  most  intimately.  On 
seeing  his  relative  approach,  Henry  walked  up  to  him,  and  express- 
ed his  regret  at  seeing  his  uncle  there.  "  Why  so  T'  inquired  the 
uncle.  "  Because,"  replied  Henry,  "  I  fear  that,  as  I  have  never 
yet  spoken  in  public,  I  shall  be  too  much  overawed  by  your  pres- 
ence to  do  justice  to  my  clients.  Besides,"  he  added,  "  I  shall  be 
under  the  necessity  of  saying  some  hard  things  of  the  clergy,  which 
it  maybe  unpleasant  for  you  to  hear."  "As  to  your  saying  hard 
things  of  the  clergy,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  good-naturedly,  "  I 
advise  you  to  be  cautious,  as  you  will  be  more  likely  to  injure 
your  own  cause  than  theirs.  As  to  my  leaving  the  ground,  I 
fear,  my  boy,  with  such  a  cause  to  defend,  my  presence  will  do 
you  but  little  harm  or  good.  Since,  however,  you  seem  to  think 
otherwise,  and  desire  it  of  me  so  earnestly,  you  shall  be  gratified." 
He  then  entered  his  carriage  and  drove  home. 

The  case  came  on.  The  opposing  counsel  behaved  with  the 
magnanimity  of  a^nan  certain  of  gaining  the  day.  He  was  full, 
fair,  liberal,  and  eloquent.  Now  came  Mr.  Henry's  turn.  He 
ros"e  from  his  seat  with  trepidation,  and  felt  and  looked  thorough- 
ly uncomfortable.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  he  contrived  to 
blunder  through  the  exordium  of  his  speech ;  but,  when  he  had 
got  thus  far,  a  sudden  change  came  over  his  whole  appearance. 
His  attitude,  by  degree,  became  lofty  and  erect,  his  eye  grew  lu- 
minous, his  hands  swept  the  air  with  graceful  curvings,  and  men- 
tally and  physically  he  seemed  to  expand  with  inspiration  and  di- 
vine force.  Wirt  says  that  "  the  people,  whose  countenances  had 
fallen  as  he  rose,  had  heard  but  a  very  few  sentences  before  they 
began  to  look  up  ;  then  to  look  at  each  other  with  surprise,  as  if 
doubting  the  evidence  of  their  own  senses ;  then,  attracted  by  some 
strong  gesture,  struck  by  some  majestic  attitude,  fascinated  by  the 
spell  of  his  eye,  the  charm  of  his  emphasis,  and  the  varied  and 
commanding  expression  of  his  countenance,  they  could  look  away 
no  more.  In  less  than  twenty  minutes  they  might  be  seen  in 

S 


410  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

every  part  of  the  house,  on  every  bench,  in  every  window,  stoop- 
ing forward  from  their  stands  in  death-like  silence,  their  features 
fixed  in  amazement  and  awe,  all  their  senses  listening  and  riveted 
upon  the  speaker,  as  if  to  catch  the  last  strain  of  some^eavenly 
visitant."  Unfortunately,  this  remarkable  speech  is  not  preserved. 
That  it  was  of  marvelous  power,  and  filled  with  strong  appeals  to 
the  passions  of  the  hearers,  does  not  admit  of  a  doubt.  The  jury 
were  so  moved  by  it  that,  disregarding  the  admitted  rights  of  the 
plaintiff,  they  returned  a  verdict  of  one  penny  damages.  A  motion 
was  made  for  a  new  trial,  but  the  court  overruled  it.  No  sooner 
was  the  cause  decided  than  the  people  seized  the  fortunate  advo- 
cate, and  carried  him  about  on  their  shoulders,  amid  the  wildest 
excitement  and  applause.  We  can  only  judge  properly  of  this 
initial  effort  of  the  young  orator  by  the  effect  it  had  on  the  public 
mind.  This  must,  indeed,  have  been  enormous.  For  years  and 
years  afterward  the  Virginians  used  to  say  of  an  eloquent  man, 
"  He  is  almost  equal  to  Patrick  Henry  when  he  plead  against  the 
Parsons." 

By  a  single  bound  Henry  had  thus  reached  a  grand  and  envi- 
able position  in  the  public  regard.  He  was  looked  on  as  the 
representative  of  popular  rights,  and  became  identified  with  the 
people.  In  those  days,  silly  class-distinctions  existed  to  a  per- 
nicious degree,  and  it  was  a  triumph  for  the  masses  that  they 
could  claim  such  a  man  as  Henry  for  their  chaifcpion  against  their 
wealthy,  aristocratic,  and  overbearing  neighbors.  As  an  orator, 
he  could  desire  no  greater  distinction  than  to  be  the  idol  of  the 
masses,  from  whom  he  knew  full  well  all  power  must  eventually 
come. 

Henry  found  no  difficulty  in  getting  practice  after  his  triumph 
in  the  Parsons'  cause,  and,  in  order  to  r  \tend  his  field  of  opera- 
tions, he  removed  to  the  County  of  Louisa.  Here  he  resumed  his 
professional  labors,  diversifying  them  occasionally  by  a  hunting 
tour  in  the  woods,  but  keeping  steadily  on  the  newly-discovered 
path  to  fortune.  He  was  not  free  from  occasional  difficulties, 
and  still  had  to  struggle  against  want.  But  he  had  a  hopeful 
and  stout  heart  within,  and  did  not  despair  of  victory  in  the 
end.  He  had  frequent  cause  to  repent  his  early  want  of  applica- 
tion, and  was  more  than  on.ce  humiliated  by  a  consciousness  that 
men  far  inferior  to  himself  succeeded  in  gaining  victories  over 
him  simply  on  account  of  technical  knowledge,  which  he  had 


PATRICK  HENRY.  411 

neglected,  but  which  they  possessed.  It  was  in  addressing  the 
jury  that  Henry  shone  to  best  advantage,  and,  consequently,  it 
was  on  criminal  days  that  he  most  distinguished  himself.  Judge 
Lyons,  of  Virginia,  was  accustomed  to  say  that  he  could  write  a 
letter,  or  draw  a  declaration  or  plea  at  the  bar  with  as  much  ac- 
curacy as  he  could  in  his  office,  under  all  circumstances,  except 
when  Patrick  rose  to  speak;  but  that,  whenever  he  rose,  he  was 
obliged  to  lay  down  his  pen,  and  could  not  write  another  word 
until  the  speech  was  finished. 

There  was  no  event  of  importance  to  draw  out  the  rare  powers 
of  our  orator  until  the  passage  of  the  famous  Stamp  Act,  in  Janu- 
ary, 1765.  The  objeclBpf  this  measure  was,  as  every  one  knows, 
to  raise  a  revenue  by  taxing  the  colonies,  and  the  result  of  the 
policy  which  suggested  it  was  the  war  of  Independence.  On  the 
rumor  that  such  a  measure  was  in  contemplation,  the  Virginia 
House  of  Burgesses  prepared  three  remonstrances,  to  the  king, 
to  the  House  of  Lords,  and  to  the  Commons  of  England,  but  they 
received  no  attention.  The  Stamp  Act  was  ordered  to  go  into 
effect  in  November,  1765.  'Henry  was  a  member  of  the  House 
of  Burgesses,  and  had  been  elected  to  that  honorable  post  to  rep- 
resent the  people,  who,  to  tell  the  truth,  were  somewhat  oppressed 
by  the  "  cold  shade  of  aristocracy."  At  such  a  crisis  he  felt  him- 
self under  the  necessity  of  giving  expression  to  the  public  indig- 
nation thus  provoked  by  the  tyranny  of  the  British  government. 
Consequently,  he  brought  forward  his  celebrated  resolutions  on 
the  Stamp  Act.  They  were  brief,  plain,  and  earnest,  and  asserted 
that  the  General  Assembly  of  the  colony  had  the  sole  right  and 
power  to  lay  taxes  and  impositions  upon  the  inhabitants,  and  that 
any  attempt  to  vest  such  power  in  any  person  or  persons  whatso- 
ever, other  than  the  General  Assembly  aforesaid,  had  a  manifest 
tendency  to  destroy  British  as  well  as  American  freedom.  After 
a  stormy  debate,  the  resolutions  were  carried  by  a  majority  of  one 
or  two  only.  It  was  sufficient  for  the  purpose.  The  great  point 
of  resistance  to  British  taxation  was  established  in  the  colonies, 
and  it  was  this,  as  Henry  remarks,  "  which  brought  on  the  war, 
and  finally  separated  the  two  countries,  and  gave  independence  to 
ours."  Of  the  speech  made  by  Henry  at  this  debate  there  is  no 
satisfactory  record.  It  was  vehement  and  patriotic,  beyond  a 
doubt.  A  passage  from  the  close  has  been  often  quoted,  and,  as 
it  is  thoroughly  authenticated,  may  be  given  here.  He  dwelt 


412  SELF-MADE  MEN* 

upon  the  danger  which  tyrants  suffer  from  the  indignation  their 
acts  provoke.  "  Caesar,"  said  he,  u  had  his  Brutus,  Charles  the 
First  his  Cromwell,  and  George  the  Third — "  Here  the  orator 
was  interrupted  by  loud  cries  of  "  Treason !  Treason  !"  He  paused 
for  a  moment,  and  then  continued  with  perfect  calmness,  "and 
George  the  Third  may  profit  by  their  example.  If  this  be  treason, 
make  the  most  of  it." 

This  was  Patrick  Henry's  first  appearance  as  an  orator  on  pure- 
ly political  topics;  It  is  a  rather  singular  circumstance,  remarks 
Dr.  Everett,  in  his  very  admirable  memoir,  that  in  this  depart- 
ment, as  in  that  of  legal  practice,  no  subsequent  effort  seems  to 
have  surpassed,  or  even  quite  equaled  ift  immediate  effect,  the 
first.  His  speech  in  the  Continental  Congress  soon  after  its  or- 
ganization called  forth  the  strongest  admiration.  Many  of  his 
speeches  in  the  Virginia  Convention  on  the  Federal  Constitution 
were  received  with  unbounded  enthusiasm,  and  produced  very 
extraordinary  results.  His  argument  in  the  British  Debt  case, 
which  occupied  three  days,  is  analyzed  at  great  length  by  Mr. 
Wirt,  and  dwelt  upon  as  a  sort  of  masterpiece ;  but,  even  at  the 
present  time,  a  Virginian  who  is  requested  to  mention  the  leading 
titles  of  Henry's  glory,  appeals  without  hesitation  to  the  speeches 
on  the  Stamp  Act  and  the  Parsons'  cause.  The  peculiar  circum- 
stances attending  each  of  these  cases  may  have  contributed  some- 
thing to  give  them,  their  comparative  importance ;  but,  indepen- 
dently of  any  other  cause,  there  is  a  certain  freshness  in  the  first 
efforts  of  a  powerful  mind  which  gives  them  an  advantage  over 
those  of  later  years,  that,  on  careful  analysis,  may  appear,  as  works 
of  science  and  art,  fully  equal,  if  not  superior. 

Although  the  British  government  repealed  the  Stamp  Act  on 
account  of  the  opposition  that  had  been  raised  to  it  in  the  colonies, 
it  was  soon  apparent  that  the  principles  of  that  opposition  were 
not  in  the  slightest  degree  recognized,  and  that  the  British  gov- 
ernment still  claimed  the  right  of  taxing  the  colonies.  Duties 
were  imposed  upon  various  articles  of  general  use — tea  among 
others.  A  riot  took  place  in  Boston,  and  an  armed  demonstra- 
tion was  made  by  the  troops.  A  quick  succession  of  events  of 
this  character  greatly  excited  the  public  mind.  It  would  be  wrong: 
to  say  that  the  idea  of  total  separation  from  the  mother  country 
was  entertained  by  the  mass  of  the  people,  but  a  growing  dislike 
to  the  English  government  began  to  pave  the  way  for  it.  Some 


PATRICK  HENRY.  413 

few  advanced  minds — among  the  number  Henry's — began  to  see 
that  these  things  could  only  end  in  a  vital  struggle  and  inde- 
pendence. 

The  colonies  were  now  in  such  a  critical  condition,  especially 
the  eastern  ones,  that  it  was  considered  necessary  to  call  a  general 
Congress,  at  which  deputies  should  meet  to  discuss  the  state  of 
public  affairs,  and  determine  on  a  unanimous  course  of  action. 
On  the  4th  of  September,  1774,  the  old  Continental  Congress  met 
at  Philadelphia.  Among  the  deputies  from  Virginia  were  George 
Washington  and  Patrick  Henry.  We  have  again  to  lament  the 
absence  of  any  authentic  record  of  the  speeches  made  on  this  oc- 
casion. They  are  represented  by  Mr.  Wirt,  on  the  authority  of 
those  who  heard  them,  as  having  been  in  the  highest  degree  pow- 
erful and  impressive.  Henry,  however,  broke  down  in  the  routine 
work  of  the  Congress.  He  was  requested  to  draw  up  a  'petition 
to  the  king.  He  did  so,  but  it  was  found  so  unsatisfactory  that 
another  one  had  to  be  prepared  in  its  place.  Judge  Chase,  of 
Maryland,  who  was  a  member  of  this  Congress,  on  hearing  the 
speeches  of  Henry  and  Lee,  walked  across  the  floor  to  the  seat 
of  his  colleague,  and  said  to  him,  in  an  under  tone,  "We  may 
as  well  go  home ;  we  are  not  able  to  legislate  with  these  men." 
But,  after  their  talent  for  transacting  the  public  affairs  had  been 
tested,  the  judge  was  heard  to  remark,  "  I  find,  after  all,  they  are 
but  men,  and,  in  mere  matters  of  business,  but  very  common  men." 

On  returning  home  from  this  Congress  Mr.  Henry 'was,  of 
course,  closely  questioned  by  his  friends  as  to  the  other  members. 
He  was  asked,  among  other  things,  whom  he  thought  the  greatest 
man  in  Congress.  "If  you  speak  of  eloquence,"  said  Henry, 
"  Mr.  Rutledge,  of  South  Carolina,  is  by  far  the  greatest  orator ; 
but  if  you  speak  of  solid  information  and  sound  judgment,  Colonel 
Washington  is  unquestionably  the  greatest  man  on  the  floor." 

On  the  20th  of  March,  1775,  a  convention  of  Virginia  delegates 
(the  second)  assembled  at  Richmond.  Henry  was,  of  course, 
among  the  number.  Resolutions  were  introduced  expressive  of 
the  sentiments  of  the  colonies  concerning  certain  matters,  and 
ending  with  the  hope  of  a  speedy  restoration  of  peace  and  good- 
will. Henry  objected  to  these  resolutions  on  the  ground  that  they 
were  too  tame  for  the  crisis.  He  introduced  another  series,  which 
he  conceived  to  be  more  to  the  point.  The  last  resolution  was 
as  follows  :  "  Resolved,  therefore,  that  this  colony  be  immediate- 


414  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ly  put  into  a  state  of  defense,  and  that  a  committee  be  raised  to 
prepare  a  plan  for  embodying,  arming,  and  disciplining  such  a 
number  of  men  as  may  be  sufficient  for  that  purpose."  The  Con- 
vention was  not  prepared  for  such  decided  steps,  and  the  resolu- 
tions were  warmly  opposed,  even  by  men  who  were  patriotic  and 
keenly  alive  to  the  critical  state  of  affairs.  Mr.  Henry  took  the 
ground  that  it  was  impossible  to  remain  longer  happily  united  to 
England,  and  in  strengthening  this  position  delivered  one  of  the 

•  most  famous  speeches  ever  uttered  by  an  American  orator.    "  Mr. 
President,"  said  he,  "  it  is  natural  to  man  to  indulge  in  the  illu- 
sions of  hope.     We  are  apt  to  shut  our  eyes  against  a  painful 
truth,  and  listen  to  the  song  of  that  siren  till  she  transforms  us 
into  beasts.  *  *  *  *  For  my  part,  whatever  anguish  of  spirit  it 
may  cost,  I  am  willing  to  know  the  whole  truth ;  to  know  the 
worst,  and  to  provide  for  it.     I  have  but  one  lamp  by  which  my 
feet  are  guided,  and  that  is  the  lamp  of  experience.     I  know  of 
no  way  of  judging  of  the  future  but  by  the  past.  *     *  Let  us  not, 
I  beseech  you,  sir,  deceive  ourselves  longer.     Sir,  we  have  done 
every  thing  that  could  be  done  to  avert  the  storm  which  is  com- 
ing on.     We  have  petitioned  ;  we  have  remonstrated ;  we  have 
supplicated ;  we  have  prostrated  ourselves  before  the  throne,  and 
have  implored  its  interposition  to  arrest  the  tyrannical  hands  of 
the  ministry  and  Parliament.     Our  petitions  have  been  slighted ; 
our  remonstrances  have  produced  additional  violence  and  insult ; 
our  supplications  have  been  disregarded,  and  we  have  been  spurn- 
ed with  contempt  from  the  foot  of  the  throne.     In  vain,  after 
these  things,  may  we  indulge  the  fond  hope  of  peace  and  recon- 
ciliation.    There  is  no  longer  any  room  for  hope.    If  we  wish  to  be 
free — if  we  mean  to  preserve  inviolate  those  inestimable  privileges 

*  for  which  we  have  been  so  long  contending — if  we  mean  not  base- 
ly to  abandon  the  noble  struggle  in  which  we  have  been  so  long 
engaged,  and  which  we  have  pledged  ourselves  never  to  abandon 
until  the  glorious  object  of  our  contest  shall  be  obtained,  we  must 
fight !     I  repeat  it,  sir,  we  must  fight !     An  appeal  to  arms,  and 
to  the  God  of  Hosts,  is  all  that  is  left  us.  *  *  *  If  we  were  base 
enough  to  desire  it,  it  is  now  too  late  to  retire  from  the  contest. 
There  is  no  retreat  but  in  submission  and  slavery.     Our  chains 
are  forged.     Their  clanking  may  be  heard  on  the  plains  of  Bos- 
ton.    The  war  is  inevitable,  and  let  it  come !     I  repeat  it,  sir, 
let  it  come  !     It  is  vain,  sir,  to  extenuate  the  matter.     Gentle- 


PATRICK  HENRY.  415 

men  may  cry  peace  !  peace  !  but  there  is  no  peace.  The  war  is 
actually  begun.  The  next  gale  that  sweeps  from  the  north  will 
bring  to  our  ears  the  clash  of  resounding  arms.  Our  brethren 
are  already  in  the  field.  Why  stand  we  here  idle  ?  What  is  it 
that  gentlemen  wish  *?  What  would  they  have  ?  Is  life  so  dear, 
or  peace  so  sweet,  as  to  be  purchased  at  the  price  of  chains  and 
slavery  ?  Forbid  it,  Almighty  God  !  I  know  not  what  course  oth- 
ers may  take,  but  as  for  me,  give  me  liberty  or  give  me  death  !" 

This  soul-firing  speech  determined  the  character  of  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  Convention.  The  resolutions  were  adopted,  and  a 
committee  appointed  to  carry  them  into  effect.  Among  other  il- 
lustrious names  on  this  committee  were  those  of  Washington  and 
Jeflerson. 

The  great  national  drama  of  the  Revolution  was  now  shortly 
to  be  enacted.  The  first  collision  occurred  at  Lexington  on  April 
the  1-8 th,  1775,  and  was  caused,  it  will  be  remembered,  by  an  at- 
tempt, on  the  part  of  the  British,  to  seize  some  military  stores  at 
Concord.  Similar  attempts  were  now  made  in  Virginia,  almost 
simultaneously  with  those  in  the  East.  The  patriotism  of  Henry 
was  about  to  be  tested  in  the  camp.  A  quantity  of  powder  and 
arms  were  seized  at  Williamsburg,  during  the  night,  by  the  gov- 
ernor. Henry  assembled  an  independent  company,  marched  im- 
mediately to  the  scene  of  action,  and  demanded  either  restitution 
of,  or  payment  for  the  powder  seized.  The  king's  receiver  gen- 
eral thought  it  advisable  to  hand  over  a  bill  of  exchange  for  £330- 
By  this  and  by  similar  acts  of  prompt  bravery,  Patrick  Henry 
rose  rapidly  in  the  estimation  of  the  people  as  a  military  chieftain. 
He  was  elected  colonel  of  the  first  regiment  of  troops,  and  com- 
mander-in-chief  of  all  the  forces  raised  or  to  be  raised  for  the  de- 
fense of  the  colony.  He  did  not  long  retain  his  commission.  In 
consequence  of  some  jealous  opposition,  he  resigned. 

Things  had  now  assumed  such  a  threatening  aspect  that  Lord 
Dunmore,  the  governor,  thought  it  necessary  for  his  own  safety 
to  desert  the  colony,  which  was,  in  consequence,  left  without  a 
chief  magistrate.  In  this  emergency,  a  convention  of  delegates 
from  the  various  counties  of  the  state  proceeded  to  draw  up  a 
plan  of  government.  On  the  15th  May,  1776,  Mr.  Gary  reported 
from  a  committee  of  the  whole  house,  with  a  suitable  preamble, 
two  important  resolutions,  one  of  which  instructed  the  delegates 
to  the  General  Congress  to  propose  to  that  body  a  declaration  that 


416  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

the  united  colonies  were  free  and  independent  states,  while  the  other 
provided  for  the  government  of  the  new  commonwealth  of  Vir- 
ginia. In  pursuance  of  the  second  resolution,  Patrick  Henry  was 
elected  the  first  republican  governor  of  his  native  state.  The 
same  honor  was  reconferred  on  him  in  1777,  and  also  in  1778. 
He  declined  a  re-election  in  1779,  from  a  belief  that  the  Constitu- 
tion did  not  allow  him  to  serve  four  years  in  succession.  During 
the  second  year  of  Henry's  administration  a  disgraceful  intrigue 
against  Washington  occurred,  and  an  attempt  was  made  to  im- 
plicate him  in  it;  but  he  behaved  with  such  prompt  and  manly 
straightforwardness  that  the  general  was  satisfied,  as  posterity  is, 
that  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  i 

During  these  years — and  they  were  the  gloomiest  America  had 
ever  seen — the  services  of  the  patriot  orator  were  devoted  entirely 
to  the  good  of  his  country.  They  were  so  keenly  appreciated,  that 
in  1784,  six  years  after  the  close  of  his  former  term  of  service,  Hen- 
ry, being  again  eligible  for  office,  was  once  more  elected  governor, 
and,  at  the  termination  of  the  official  year,  was  re-elected.  It 
was  the  desire  of  the  Legislature  that  he  should  complete  another 
three  years'  term,  but,  at  the  end  of  the  second  year,  he  declined. 
The  truth  of  the  matter  was  that  his  private  affairs  were  in  a 
somewhat  embarrassed  condition.  The  salary  of  governor  was 
insufficient  for  the  expenses  of  the  office,  and  he  had  been  com- 
pelled to  contract  debts  which  it  was  necessary  he  should  pay. 
He  concluded,  therefore,  to  decline  office,  and  once  more  to  resume 
the  practice  of  the  law.  In  the  mean  time,  he  had  been  elected 
to  the  House  of  Assembly,  whither  we  shall  follow  him. 

More  than  once  during  his  public  career  he  had  felt  it  his  duty 
to  propose  or  advocate  measures  in  opposition  to  the  popular  sen- 
timent of  the  times.  Henry  was  a  man  who  thought  for  himself 
on  all  great  topics,  and  never,  under  any  circumstances,  surrender- 
ed his  judgment  to  the  keeping  of  others.  The  force  of  his  judg- 
ment and  the  decision  of  his  character  were  generally  exercised 
to  the  advantage  of  the  community,  although  he  was  sometimes 
led  away  by  patriotic  fears,  which  were,  as  time  has  proved,  ut- 
terly unfounded.  Immediately  after  the  termination  of  the  Revo- 
lutionary struggle  he  introduced  a  measure  for  the  return  of  the 
British  refugees.  There  was,  of  course,  at  this  time  a  strong  and 
natural  prejudice  against  the  misguided  men  who,  if  they  had  not 
actually  opposed  the  American  struggle,  at  all  events  bad  done 


PATRICK  HENRY.  417 

nothing  to  forward  it.  Mr.  Henry  exerted  all  his  influence  and 
genius  to  remove  this  prejudice,  and,  on  the  grounds  of  human- 
ity, justice,  and  policy,  advocated  the  liberal  plan  of  forgetting 
the  past.  In  the  same  generous  spirit  he  supported  and  carried, 
against  a  vigorous  opposition,  a  proposal  for  removing  the  restraints 
on  British  commerce.  "  Why  should  we  fetter  commerce  ?"  he 
asked :  "a  man  in  chains  droops  and  bows  to  the  earth ;  his 
spirits  are  broken ;  but  let  him  twist  the  fetters  from  his  legs, 
and  he  will  stand  upright.  Fetter  not  commerce,  sir ;  let  her  be 
free  as  air.  She  will  range  the  whole  creation,  and  return  on 
the  wings  of  the  four  winds  of  heaven  to  bless  the  land  with 
plenty." 

In  1786  Henry  was  sent  by  the  Legislature  as  a  delegate  to 
the  Convention  for  revising  the  Articles  of  Confederation  among 
the  States.  In  September,  1787,  the  Constitution  was  adopted 
with  a  proviso  that  the  ratification  of  it  by  nine  states  should  be 
sufficient  for  its  final  establishment.  Conventions  were  at  once 
held  in  all  the  states  for  the  due  consideration  of  the  important 
document.  The  Virginia  Convention  met  in  Richmond  on  the 
2d  of  June,  1788,  and  such  men  as  Marshall,  Madison,  Monroe, 
and  Henry  were  among  those  who  formed  it.  Patrick  Henry 
appeared  in  that  assembly  as  the  determined  opponent  of  -the 
Constitution.  We  know  very  well  at  this  day  that  he  was  wrong, 
and  that  the  fears  he  entertained  for  the  stability  of  a  government 
based  on  the  new  system  have  turned  out  altogether  wrong.  For- 
tunately, he  found  powerful  opponents,  especially  in  Mr.  Madison, 
who  on  this  occasion  distinguished  himself  by  calm  good  sense, 
instinctive  sagacity,  and  vast  information.  Notwithstanding  the 
"cloud-compelling"  opposition  of  Mr.  Henry,  the  Constitution 
was  adopted,  and  he  himself  lived  to  regard  it  with  much  less 
fear  than  at  first.  There  was  nothing  factious  about  Mr.  Henry's 
opposition.  The  moment  the  Constitution  was  adopted  as  the 
law  of  the  land,  his  opposition  ceased. 

Mr.  Henry  declined  a  re-election  to  the  Virginia  Legislature, 
and,  although  frequently  solicited,  never  again  took  an  active  part 
in  politics.  In  the  fall  of  1791  he  was  engaged  in  the  British 
Debts  case  before  the  Circuit  Court  of  the  United  States.  For 
three  days  he  proceeded  with  his  argument,  and  such  was  the 
excitement  that  prevailed  that  it  was  found  impossible  to  go  on 
with  the  business  of  the  State,  the  members  of  the  Legislature 

S  2 


418  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

Ijeing  in  the  court  listening  to  Henry,  instead  of  attending  to  their 
own  business  in  the  House.  When  he  finally  sat  down,  says  Mr. 
Wirt,  the  concourse  rose  with  a  general  murmur  of  admiration ; 
the  scene  resembled  the  breaking  up  and  dispersion  of  a  great 
theatrical  assembly  which  had  been  enjoying,  for  the  first  time, 
the  exhibition  of  some  new  and  splendid  drama. 

In  1794,  Mr.  Henry,  having  acquired  a  competency,  retired 
from  professional  life,  loaded  with  honors  and  universal  affection. 
In  the  bosom  of  his  family  he  now  hoped  to  pass  the  tranquil 
evening  of  his  Kfe ;  but  in  1799,  although  somewhat  feeble  in 
health,  he  felt  called  upon  to  offer  himself  as  a  candidate  for  the 
Legislature  on  account  of  some  important  measures  which  had 
been  introduced,  called  the  Alien  and  Sedition  Laws.  He  was 
elected  by  a  large  majority,  but  did  not  live  to  take  his  seat  in 
the  Assembly.  On  the  6th  of  June,  1799,  he  died  of  a  disease 
under' which  he  had  been  suffering  for  two  years,  leaving  behind 
him  a  wife  and  nine  children.  He  had  been  twice  married,  and 
at  one  time  numbered  fifteen  children.  No  man  was  better  fitted 
to  enjoy  the  happiness  of  such  a  domestic  circle.  He  was  a  loving 
husband,  a  kind  father,  and  a  brave,  upright  patriot  and  Christian, 
thoroughly  imbued  with  religious  feeling,  and  devout  in  all  his 
aspirations.  As  an  evidence  of  his  religious  sincerity,  we  may 
mention  that,  in  1790,  he  published  at  his  own  expense,  and  gra- 
tuitously circulated,  an  edition  of  Soame  Jenyns's  "  View  of  the 
Internal  Evidences  of  Christianity."  Among  his  favorite  works 
were  Doddridge's  "  Rise  and  Progress  of  Religion  in  the  Soul," 
and  Butler's  "  Analogy  of  Religion,  Natural  and  Revealed." 

Patrick  Henry  has  been  called  the  greatest  orator  of  the  New 
World,  and  it  is  probable  that  he  is  fully  entitled  to  that  distinc- 
tion. The  immense  influence  of  his  oratory  is  amply  substan- 
tiated, although  the  orations  themselves  have  not  been  hand- 
ed down  to  us  in  a  way  to  explain  this  influence.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  he  owed  much  of  his  success  to  natural  gifts  of  voice, 
appearance,  and  manner;  indeed,  all  orators  do.  For  the  rest, 
he  was  a  man  of  sincere  convictions,  with  a  rapid  judgment,  much 
earnestness,  and  a  deep-seated  sensibility.  These  attributes  are 
the  happiest  that  can  belong  to  an  orator,  and,  combined  with 
sound  common  sense,  never  fail  to  achieve  distinction.  It  must 
forever  be  regretted  that  the  early  years  of  this  great  man's  life 
were  wasted  in  the  indolent  pursuit  of  pleasure.  Had  he  culti- 


PATRICK  HENRY.  419 

vated  the  faculties  which  the  Almighty  intrusted  to  his  keeping, 
he  would  have  lived  in  the  imperishable  literature  of  his  country 
as  well  as  in  its  political  history.  It  is  difficult  to  account  for  this 
early  indolence,  except  on  one  theory.  He  was  a  man  of  wonderful 
organization,  mental  and  physical.  Nature  had  made  him  robust, 
active,  and  eager  for  the  enjoyments  of  life.  He  was  strong  in 
body  as  in  mind.  It  was  in  accordance  with  nature's  plan,  there- 
fore, that  the  physical  luxuriance  of  the  man  should  unfold  itself 
before  the  mental.  Had  he  been  weak  or  sickly,  the  case  would 
have  been  different.  The  story  of  his  early  life  affords  no  example 
worthy  of  imitation,  but  it  shows  at  least  that  an  observant  mind 
is  never  actually  idle.  The  happy  faculty  he  possessed  of  seizing 
on  the  things  of  the  moment,  and  bending  them  to  his  purpose  as 
illustrations,  was  doubtless  the  result  of  quiet  observation,  pursued 
amid  the  excitement  of  the  chase  or  the  still  expectation  of  the 
angle.  A  man  who  spends  his  life  in  books  rarely  possesses  this 
talent.  However  this  may  be,  there  is  no  doubt  that,  so  long  as 
America  shall  have  a  history,  the  name  of  Patrick  Henry  will  be 
inscribed  on  its  tablets  as  the  greatest  natural  orator  of  a  century. 


ELI  WHITNEY. 

IN  a  gay  little  frame  house  of  Westborough,Worcester  County, 
Massachusetts,  Eli  Whitney,  the  inventor  of  the  cotton-gin,  was 
born  on  the  8th  of  December,  1765.  His  father  was  a  respecta- 
ble fanner.  At  a  very  early  age  Eli  gave  indications  of  unusual 
mechanical  and  constructive  genius,  and  was  able  to  handle  the 
tools  in  the  farm  workshop  with  dexterity.  When  he  wa»twelvc 
years  of  age  he  distinguished  himself  by  making  a  violin,  which, 
it  is  said,  produced  good  music,  and  was,  of  course,  the  wonder 
of  the  neighborhood.  It  obtained  so  wide  a  fame  that  he  was  aft- 
erward employed  to  repair  violins,  and  had  many  nice  jobs,  which 
were  always  executed  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of  his  customers. 
Whitney,  like  most  ingenious  boys,  was  fascinated  by  the  perfect 
finish  and  admirable  adaptability  of  the  various  parts  of  a  watch. 
His  fingers  itched  to  take  it  to  pieces  and  learn  the  secret  of  its 
usefulness ;  but  his  father,  to  whom  it  belonged,  had  very  differ- 
ent wishes  on  the  subject,  and  was  apt  to  reward  curiosity  with 
punishment.  For  a  long  time-  Eli's  inquisitive  mind  had  to  post- 
pone its  yearnings,  but  at  length  an  opportunity  presented  itself. 
"  One  morning,  observing  that  his  father  was  going  to  meeting, 
and  would  leave  at  home  the  wonderful  little  machine,  he  imme- 
diately feigned  illness  as  an  apology  for  not  going  to  church.  As 
soon  as  the  family  were  out  of  sight,  he  flew  to  the  room  where 
the  watch  hung,  and,  taking  it  down,  he  was  so  delighted  with  its 
motions  that  he  took  it  all  in  pieces  before  he  thought  of  the  con- 
sequences of  his  rash  deed  ;  for  his  father  was  a  stern  parent,  and 
punishment  would  have  been  the  reward  of  his  idle  curiosity  had 
the  mischief  been  detectecl.  He,  however,  put  the  work  all  so 
neatly  together,  that  his  father  never  discovered  his  audacity  un- 
til he  himself  told  him,  many  years  afterward."  Similar  instan- 
ces of  ingenuity  were  of  constant  occurrence,  and  gave  abundant 
indications  of  the  natural  bent  of  his  mind. 

When  Whitney  was  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  of  age,  he  determ- 
ined to  turn  his  tool-handiness  to  some  account.  He  asked  per- 
mission of  his  father  to  set  up  as  a  maker  of  nails,  for  which  there 


ELI  WHITNEY.  421 

was  a  great  demand.  His  father  consented,  procured  him  a  few 
simple  tools,  and  left  him  to  pursue  his  labors  as  best  he  could. 
For  two  winters  he  labored  diligently  at  this  arduous  trade.  His 
industry  was  unflagging.  Nothing  was  permitted  to  interfere 
with  the  day's  labor,  and,  when  that  was  completed,  he  amused 
himself  with  making  tools  for  his  own  use,  and  in  doing  little 
fancy  jobs  for  the  neighbors.  In  the  summer  months  he  did  or- 
dinary field-work  on  his  father's  farm.  When  the  nail  business 
began  to  fail,  he  directed  his  attention  to  the  making  of  long  pins 
for  the  fastening  of  ladies'  bonnets,  and  also  to  the  manufacture 
of  walking-canes.  Both  these  curious  articles  were  turned  out 
with  such  peculiar  neatness  that  he  had  a  complete  command  of 
the  market. 

Whitney's  industry  was  from  the  first  directed  to  the  attain- 
ment of  one  coveted  object.  It  was  his  ambition  to  win  for  him- 
self a  superior  education,  and  to  enjoy  the  advantages  of  a  colle- 
giate course  of  study.  In  1789  he  had  so  far  made  himself  the 
master  of  circumstances  as  to  be  able  to  enter  the  freshman  class 
at  Yale  College ;  three  years  later  he  had  obtained  his  first  de- 
gree, and  immediately  afterward  he  went  into  the  world  as  a  pri- 
vate teacher.  In  the  family  of  General  Greene,  of  Mulberry 
Grove,  near  Savannah,  he  was  received  with  great  kindness  and 
consideration,  and  while  in  the  enjoyment  of  their  hospitality  com- 
menced the  study  of  the  law.  Mrs.  Greene,  like  most  fashionable 
ladies  of  the  time,  amused  her  leisure  with  the  elegant  pastime  of 
tambour- work.  One  day  she  complained  that  the  frame  or  tam- 
bour was  clumsily  constructed,  and  tore  the  delicate  threads  of 
her  work.  Whitney's  inventive  faculties  and  his  gallantry  were 
immediately  excited.  In  a  few  days  he  produced  a  new  frame, 
on  a  totally  different  plan.  It  was  found  to  work  admirably,  and 
Mrs.  Greene  never  forgot  the  ingenuity  of  her  young  friend.  Not 
long  after,  a  conversation  sprang  up  between  some  guests  of  the 
house  on  the  usual  topic  of  Southern  talk,  the  cotton  crop.  A  good 
many  regrets  were  expressed  that  there  was  no  way  of  cleaning  the 
seed  from  the  green  seed-cotton,  which  prevented  much  profitable 
cultivation  of  the  plant  on  lands  unsuitable  for  rice.  According  to 
the  then  existing  system,  only  one  pound  of  the  clean  staple  could 
be  separated  from  the  seed  in  a  day.  Mrs.  Greene  suggested  that 
the  subject  should  be  proposed  to  Whitney,  on  the  score  that  he 
could  make  any  thing,  and  took  an  early  opportunity  to  intro- 


422  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

• 

duce  the  parties.  At  this  time  Whitney  had  never  seen  cotton- 
seed in  his  life,  but,  without  a  moment's  delay,  he  turned  his 
thoughts  to  the  accomplishment  of  the  object  proposed.  In  Sa- 
vannah he  found  it  impossible  to  procure  tools,  and  was  under 
the  necessity  of  making  them  for  himself,  and  even  then  had  to 
draw  his  own  wire.  In  the  effort  to  which  he  now  devoted  him- 
self, he  was  warmly  encouraged  by  an  old  college  friend,  Mr.  Mil- 
ler, and  by  Mrs.  Greene.  The  gentleman  possessed  capital,  and 
was  so  well  satisfied  with  Whitney's  plans,  that  he  proposed  to 
become  a  joint  adventurer  with  him,  and  to  bear  the  whole  ex- 
pense of  maturing  the  invention  until  it  should  be  patented.  If 
the  machine  should  succeed  in  its  intended  operations,  the  parties 
agreed  "  that  the  profits  and  advantages  arising  therefrom,  as 
well  as  all  privileges  and  emoluments  to  be  derived  from  patent- 
ing, making,  vending,  and  working  the  same,  should  be  mutually 
and  equally  shared  between  them."  This  instrument  bears  date 
the  27th  of  May,  1793.  Immediately  afterward  the  firm  of  Mil- 
ler and  Whitney  commenced  operations. 

The  advantages  which  were  to  be  derived  by  the  cotton  plant- 
ers from  Whitney's  machine  were  too  important  to  allow  of  its 
being  constructed  without  exciting  curiosity.  The  excitement 
became  so  intense  that  multitudes  arrived  from  all  quarters  of 
the  state  to  inspect  the  machine.  Seeing  how  admirably  it  was 
calculated  to  assist  them,  their  cupidity  was  excited,  and  some 
unprincipled  wretches  broke  into  the  building  and  carried  off  the 
yet  incomplete  model.  In  order  to  prevent  the  recurrence  of 
such  a  disgraceful  act,  Whitney  repaired  to  Connecticut,  where 
he  knew  he  would  be  unmolested ;  but  his  idea  had  been  already 
appropriated  by  the  greedy  ruffians  who  had  broken  into  his  house. 
Within  three  days  of  his  departure,  Mr.  Miller  wrote  to  him  to  say 
that  there  were  two  other  claimants  to  the  honor  of  the  inven- 
tion ;  and  almost  immediately  afterward  a  new  cotton-gin  made 
its  appearance,  constructed  in  every  important  respect  precisely 
like  Whitney's.  It  was  evident  that  his  troubles  were  about  to 
commence,  and  that,  like  all  original  inventors,  he  would  have  to 
be  content  with  the  empty  honors  of  his  genius.  The  demand  for 
the  machines,  however,  when  he  had  commenced  their  manufac- 
ture, far  exceeded  Whitney's  ability  to  make  them.  He  was 
cramped  for  want  of  money.  Thus  the  pirates  had  every  induce- 
ment to  bring  in  their  spurious  copies.  The  planter  who  had  not 


ELI  WHITNEY.  425 

a  machine,  felt  it  necessary  to  procure  one,  either  from  Whitney 
or  some  other  source,  simply  as  a  measure  of  protection  against 
his  more  fortunate  neighbor.  In  March,  1795,  in  addition  to 
these  troubles, Whitney's  manufactory  in  Connecticut,  with  all  his 
stock  of  machines,  his  papers,  and  his  implements  and  tools,  was 
destroyed  by  fire.  Such  an  untimely  calamity  reduced  the  con- 
cern to  a  state  of  bankruptcy.  As  though  this  were  not  enough 
to  appease  the  cruel  fates,  intelligence  was  received  from  England 
condemning  the  cotton  cleaned  by  machines,  on  the  ground  that 
the  staple  was  greatly  injured.  There  is  no  doubt  that  this  de- 
cision was  provoked  in  consequence  of  the  imperfect  operations 
of  the  rival  machines.  Indeed,  many  respectable  factors  made  a 
special  reservation  in  favor  of  Whitney's,  but  it  was  of  little  avail 
against  the  torrent  of  spurious  ones  which  now  deluged  the  South. 
"  The  extreme  embarrassments,"  wrote  Whitney  at  this  time, 
"  which  have  been  for  a  long  time  accumulating  upon  me,  are 
now  become  so  great  that  it  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  struggle 
against  them  many  days  longer.  It  has  required  my  utmost  ex- 
ertions to  exist,  without  making  the  least  progress  in  our  business. 
I  have  labored  hard  against  the  strong  current  of  disappointment 
which  has  been  threatening  to  carry  us  down  the  cataract,  but  I 
have  labored  with  a  shattered  oar,  and  struggled  in  vain,  unless 
some  speedy  relief  is  obtained.  *  *  •*  *  Life  is  but  short  at  best, 
and  six  or  seven  years  out  of  the  midst  of  it  is,  to  him  who  makes 
it,  an  immense  sacrifice.  My  most  unremitted  attention  has  been 
devoted  to  our  business.  I  have  sacrificed  to  it  other  objects, 
from  which,  before  this  time,  I  might  certainly  have  gained  twen- 
ty or  thirty  thousand  dollars.  My  whole  prospects  have  been 
embarked  in  it,  with  the  expectation  that  I  should,  before  this 
time,  have  realized  something  from  it." 

Whitney's  success  now  depended  not  only  on  the  introduction 
of  his  own  machines,  but  the  extinction  of  all  others,  for  the  latter 
not  only  interfered  with  the  sale  of  his  own,  but,  what  was  of  far 
greater  importance,  brought  the  machine-prepared  staple  into  dis- 
credit with  the  English  manufacturers.  It  was  determined,  there- 
fore, to  prosecute  the  violators  of  the  patent  rights.  The  first  trial 
came  off  on  the  llth  of  May,  1797.  The  tide  of  popular  opinion 
appeared  to  be  running  in  Miller  &  Whitney's  favor ;  the  judge 
was  well-disposed  toward  them,  and  charged  the  jury  pointedly 
in  their  favor.  The  jury  retired  to  consider  their  verdict.  In 


424  SELF-MADE  MIA 

an  hour  they  returned,  and,  to  the  consternation  of  every  one, 
brought  in  a  verdict  against  the  plaintiffs.  As  if  to  add  addi- 
tional harshness  to  this  unrighteous  decision,  the  verdict  was 
made  general,  so  that  no  appeal  could  lie.  "Thijs,  after  four 
years  of  assiduous  labor,  fatigue,  and  difficulty,"  wrote  Mr.  Miller, 
"  are  we  again  set  afloat  by  a  new  and  most  unexpected  obstacle. 
Our  hopes  of  success  are  no.w  removed  to  a  period  still  more  dis- 
tant than  before,  while  our  expenses  are  realized  beyond  all  con- 
troversy." Efforts  were  made  to  obtain  a  new  trial,  and  also  to 
obtain  a  verdict  on  a  fresh  issue,  but  without  success.  It  became 
evident  that  justice  could  not  be  obtained  in  Georgia,  and  in  1799 
Mr.  Miller  wrote,  "  The  prospect  of  making  any  thing  by  ginning 
in  this  state  is  at  an  end.  Surreptitious  gins  are  erected  in  ev- 
ery part  of  the  country,  and  the  jurymen  at  Augusta  have  come 
to  an  understanding  among  themselves  that  they  will  never  give 
a  cause  in  our  favor,  let  the  merits  of  the  case  be  as  they  may." 
The  only  .chance  of  protection  was  in  an  appeal  to  the  Legislatures 
of  the  several  states.  It  was  determined  to  make  a  first  effort 
with  the  State  of  South  Carolina.  Accordingly,  in  the  whiter 
session  of  1801,  Mr.  Whitney  proceeded  to  Columbia,  and,  after 
attending  on  the  Legislature  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  was  fortunate 
enough  to  dispose  of  the  patent  right  for  that  state.  The  sum  of 
fifty  thousand  dollars  was  fixed  upon  as  the  price,  twenty  thousand 
to  be  paid  down,  and  the  balance  by  yearly  instalments  of  ten 
thousand  dollars.  Better  tunes  appeared  to  be  ripening  for  the 
disappointed  inventor.  In  December  of  the  following  year  Mr. 
Whitney  negotiated  a  sale  of  his  patent  right  with  the  State  of 
North  Carolina.  The  Legislature  laid  a  tax  of  two  shillings  and . 
sixpence  upon  every  saw  employed  in  ginning  cotton,  to  be  con- 
tinued for  five  years,  and,  after  deducting  the  expenses  of  collec- 
tion, the  avails  were  faithfully  handed  over  to  the  patentee.  A 
similar  negotiation  was  entered  into  with  the  State  of  Tennessee. 
In  the  midst  of  this  apparent  prosperity,  and  when  every  thing 
seemed  to  be  tending  to  an  equitable  adjustment  of  difficulties, 
the  State  of  South  Carolina  suddenly  repudiated  its  obligations, 
refused  to  pay  any  more  of  the  purchase-money,  and  commenced 
actions  for  the  recovery  of  what  had  been  paid.  This  unworthy 
meanness  was  basely  imitated  by  Tennessee ;  but  North  Carolina, 
with  manly  liberality  and  righteousness,  adhered  to  its  contract, 
and  even  reaffirmed  it,  as  if  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure.  In 


ELI  WHITNEY.  425 

the  following  year  South  Carolina  felt  ashamed  of.  its  meanness, 
rescinded  the  act  of  repudiation,  and  paid  some  timely  compli- 
ments to  Mr.  Whitney. 

On  the  .71 1  of  December,  1803,  Mr.  Miller,  the  faithful  and  de- 
voted associate  of  Whitney,  departed  this  life,  leaving  him  alone, 
amid  innumerable  difficulties  to  contend  with  and  embarrassments 
to  surmount.  The  immediate  pressure  of  the  latter  was  in  some 
measure  mitigated  by  the  steady  receipts  which  now  flowed  in 
from  North  and  South  Carolina.  But  there  was  constant  trouble 
in  Georgia,  and  no  end  of  vexatious  lawsuits.  It  was  so  difficult 
to  obtain  a  verdict  on  the  merits  of  the  patent  that  the  latter  had 
nearly  expired  before  Judge  Johnson  gave  his  celebrated  decision 
affirming  the  legal  rights  of  the  patentee.  Long  before  this,  Whit- 
ney had  despaired  of  gaining  any  thing  like  competency  from  his 
invention,  and  began  to  entertain  serious  thoughts  of  turning  his 
talents  to  some  sure  and  lucrative  business  in  which  industry^ 
frugality,  and  merit  would  meet  with  their  just  reward.  On  the 
I3:th  of  January,  1798,  he  concluded  a  contract  with  the  Secretary 
of  the  Treasury  to  supply  the  United  States  government  with  a 
large  stock  of  arms,  and,  without  more  ado,  proceeded  to  the  erec- 
tion of  a  suitable  manufactory  for  the  prosecution  of  the  business 
of  arms-making.  The  site  selected  was  near  the  city  of  New  Ha- 
ven, and  is  now  called  Whitneyville.  The  machinery  and  tools 
for  the  manufacture  were  partly  invented  and  wholly  made  by 
Whitney,  a,nd,  under  his  eye,  a  number  of  inexperienced  workmen 
were  converted  into  skillful  artisans.  "Under  the  system  of  Mr. 
Whitney,"  says  a  writer  in  Sillimari's  Journal,  to  whom  we,  in  com- 
mon with  all  subsequent  biographers,  are  largely  indebted,  "  the 
several  parts  of  the  musket  were  carried  along  through  the  various 
processes  of  manufacture  in  lots  of  some  hundreds  or  thousands  of 
each.  In  their  various  stages  of  progress  they  were  made  to  un- 
dergo successive  operations  by  machinery,  which  not  only  vastly 
abridged  the  labor,  but  at  the  same  time  so  fixed  and  determined 
their  form  and  dimensions  as  to  make  comparatively  little  skill 
necessary  in  the  manual  operations.  Such  was  the  construction 
and  arrangement  of  this  machinery,  that  it  could  be  worked  by 
persons  of  little  or  no  experience,  and  yet  it  performed  the  work 
with  so  much  precision,  that  when,  in  the  later  stages  of  the 
process,  the  several  parts  of  the  musket  came  to  be  put  together, 
they  were  as  readily  adapted  to  each  other  as  if  each  had  been 
made  for  its  respective  fellow.  A  lot  of  these  parts  passed  through 


426  «        SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ihe  hands  of  several  different  workmen  successively  (and  in  some 
cases  several  times  returned,  at  intervals  more  or  less  remote,  to 
the  hands  of  the  same  workman),  each  performing  upon  them 
every  time  some  single  and  simple  operation  by  machinery  or  by 
hand  until  they  were  completed.  Thus  Mr.  Whitney  reduced  a 
complex  business,  embracing  many  ramifications,  almost  to  a  mere 
succession  of  simple  processes,  and  was  thereby  enabled  to  make 
a  division  of  the  labor  among  his  workmen,  on  a  principle  that 
was  not  only  more  extensive,  but  also  more  philosophical  than 
that  pursued  in  the  English  method." 

The  muskets  made  by  this  process  were  not  only  cheaper,  but 
better  than  any  others  in  the  market.  So  thoroughly  satisfied 
was  the  government  on  this  point,  that  they  cheerfully  entered 
into  a  second  contract  on  the  completion  of  the  first.  Mr.  Whit- 
ney was  not  without  opposition.  Many  of  the  old  established 
gun-makers,  who  pursued  the  old  routine,  and  supposed  it  impos- 
sible for  any  thing  better  to  be  contrived,  competed  with  him,  but 
brains  told  against  capital  in  this  instance,  and  Whitney  enjoyed 
a  well-earned  reputation  and  put  money  in  his  purse. 

In  the  year  1812  Mr.  Whitney  made  application  to  Congress 
for  a  renewal  of  his  patent  for  the  cotton-gin.  In  a  temperate  and 
admirably-written  memorial,  he  put  forward  all  his  claims  to  this 
slight  consideration.  It  was  of  no  avail.  The  very  men  who 
had  been  most  benefited  by  the  invention  were  those  who  opposed 
the  inventor  most  virulently.  They  were  successful ;  the  exten- 
sion was  refused,  and  those  who  had  so  long  robbed  him  illegally 
now  did  it  with  the  protection  of  the  law.  In  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Fulton  on  this  subject, Whitney  says,  "  The  difficulties  with  which 
I  have  had  to  contend  have  originated  principally  in  the  want  of 
a  disposition  in  mankind  to  do  justice.  My  invention  was  new, 
and  distinct  from  every  other ;  it  stood  alone ;  it  was  not  inter- 
woven with  any  thing  before  known ;  and  it  can  seldom  happen 
that  an  invention  or  improvement  is  so  strongly  marked,  and  can 
be  so  clearly  and  specifically  identified ;  and  I  have  always  be- 
lieved that  I  should  have  had  no  difficulty  in  causing  my  rights 
to  be  respected,  if  it  had  been  less  valuable,  and  been  used  only 
by  a  small  portion  of  the  community.  But  the  use  of  this  ma- 
chine .being  immensely  profitable  to  almost  every  planter  in  the 
cotton  districts,  all  were  interested  in  trespassing  upon  the  pat- 
ent-right, and  each  kept  the  other  in  countenance.  Demagogues 
made  themselves  popular  by  misrepresentation  and  unfounded 


ELI  WHITNEY.  427 

clamors,  both  against  the  right,  and  against  -the  law  made  for  its 
protection.  Hence  there  arose  associations  and  combinations  to 
oppose  both.  At  one  time,  but  few  men  in  Georgia  dared  to 
come  into  court  and  testify  to  the  most  simple  facts  within  their 
knowledge  relative  to  the  use  of  the  machine.  In  one  instance  I 
had  great  difficulty  in  proving  that  the  machine  had  been  used  in 
Georgia,  although,  at  the  same  moment,  there  were  three  separate  sets 
of  this  machinery  in  motion  within  fifty  yards  of  the  building  in  which 
t/ie  court  sat,  and  all  so  near  that  the  rattling  of  the  wheels  was  dis- 
tinctly heard  on  the  steps  of  the  court-house" 

Fortunately,  his  worldly  prosperity  did  not  now  depend  upon 
the  uncertain  privileges  of  letters  patent  and  state  rights.  The 
new  enterprise  in  which  he  was  embarked  proved,  as  we  have 
hinted,  eminently  lucrative,  and  pointed  out  a  clear  road  to  afflu- 
ence. His  circumstances  now  being  comparatively  easy,  he  be- 
gan to  yearn  for  the  social  comforts  of  home — for  the  tranquil 
joys  which  nestle  around  the  family  hearth — for  the  solace,  con- 
solation, and  gentle  ministrations  of  a  wife.  In  January  of  1817 
he  gratified  this  ardent  and  amiable  desire,  and  was  wedded  to 
Miss  Henrietta  F.  Edwards,  the  youngest  daughter  of  the  Hon. 
Pierrepont  Edwards,  of  the  District  Court  of  the  State  of  Con- 
necticut. His  happiness  was  subsequently  rendered  complete  by 
the  addition  of  a  son  and  three  daughters  to  his  domestic  circle. 
Every  thing  seemed  to  promise  a  brilliant  and  gorgeous  decline 
to  a  life  too  much  spent  in  toil  and  trouble.  But  it  was  not  to 
be.  At  the  moment  when  the  cup  of  happiness  appeared  to  be 
brimming  at  his  lips,  it  was  dashed  to  the  ground  by  the  treach- 
erous approaches  of  the  fell  destroyer.  Disease  in  an  aggravated 
and  tedious  form  attacked  him.  He  struggled  against  it  with  his 
accustomed  firmness,  but  King  Death's  patent  rights  can  not  be 
set  aside.  After  a  long  and  painful  illness,  he  died  on  the  8th  of 
January,  1825. 

His  death  occasioned  a  sensation  of  profound  sadness  to  a  large 
community,  who  knew  and  respected  him  not  only  for  the  mate- 
rial good  he  had  done  his  country,  but  for  the  amiable  qualities 
of  his  heart  and  mind.  The  citizens  of  New  Haven  paid  every 
respect  to  the  memory  of  the  deceased,  and  caused  a  eulogy  to  be 
pronounced  over  his  remains  by  President  Day,  of  Yale  College. 
A  neat  tomb  has  been  erected  over  his  grave,  fashioned  after  the 
model  of  that  of  Scipio  at  Rome.  It  marks  a  spot  that  should  be 
honored  by  every  American  who  is  jealous  of  his  country's  glory. 


BENJAMIN  FKANKLIK 

THE  life  of  this  extraordinary  man  presents  a  solid  instance  of 
high  eminence  and  national  esteem  achieved  by  the  conscientious 
and  timely  nurture  and  exercise  of  temperate  and  healthy  facul- 
ties. In  the  picture  of  his  life  there  is  nothing  that  attracts  us 
by  its  glare  and  tinseled  brilliancy.  The  coloring,  if  any  thing, 
is  cold  and  sombre;  but  there  is  clearness  in  the  ouUipe,  and 
never-failing  boldness  and  vigor  in  the  filling  up.  We  are  aston- 
ished at  die  absence  of  every  thing  like  mere  effort  for  show.  He 
never  seems  to  say  to  himself,  "  This  will  look  well ;"  but  rather, 
"  This  is  correct,  and  therefore  beautiful."  Biographers  have  ex- 
perienced difficulty  in  doing  full  justice  to  the  life  of  Franklin  for 
the  reason  that  he  presents  so  many  points  of  excellence,  all  glow- 
ing with  quiet  splendor.  By  one  he  is  considered  remarkable 
principally  for  his  philosophical  experiments  and  discoveries ;  by 
another,  for  his  ingenuity  and  devotion  as  a  diplomat ;  by  a  third, 
for  his  clear-headed  organization  of  philanthropic  societies  ;  by  a 
fourth,  for  his  patriotism,  and  so  on.  Each  separate  advocate 
finds  abundant  materials  for  eulogizing  the  hero,  but  each  and  all 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN.  429 

do  the  hero  an  injustice,  for  it  was  not  the  possession  of  a  single 
faculty  that  made  Franklin  remarkable,  but  the  nice  adjustment 
of  many.  Even  Franklin  himself  fails  to  do  justice  to  his  life. 
His  Autobiography  is  simply  the  story  of  a  prudent  man,  who  ex- 
alts the  virtues  generally,  and  adds  economy  and  money-making 
to  the  list  because  he  practices  them.  If  our  knowledge  of  Frank- 
lin were  confined  simply  to  this  record,  it  would  be  very  imperfect 
and  unsatisfactory. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Franklin's  character  is  one  of 
such  extreme  complexity  that  it  can  not  be  understood  by  ordi- 
nary intelligences.  On  the  contrary,  its  utter  simplicity  is  what 
is  apt  to  confuse ;  for  a  virtuous  character  presents  more  admira- 
ble phases  than  any  other ;  and,  in  dwelling  on  any  individual 
phase,  we  are  likely  to  do  injustice  to  the  others.  Franklin  had 
what  is  called  by  phrenologists  a  well-balanced  organization.  Ev- 
ery faculty  was  largely  formed  and  assiduously  cultivated.  He 
knew  exactly  his  own  strength,  and,  consequently,  never  failed  of 
success  in  what  he  undertook.  He  armed  himself  with  right — 
might  he  possessed — and  never  laid  it  down  until  he  had  gained 
the  victory.  His  life  is  remarkable  for  two  things,  great  ambition 
and  great  virtue.  He  determined  to  be  famous  and  to  be  good. 
He  succeeded  in  both. 

Benjamin  Franklin  was  the  fifteenth  child  of  a  family  of  seven- 
teen, and  was  born  in  Boston  on  the  17th  January,  1706.  His 
father,  an  English  Nonconformist,  emigrated  to  New  England 
about  the  year  1682,  for  the  sake  of  enjoying  the  free  exercise  of 
Ins  religion.  He  was  a  tallow-chandler  and  soap-boiler  by  pro- 
fession, and  a  man  of  considerable  force  of  character.  At  eight 
years  of  age  young  Benjamin  was  put  to  the  grammar-school,  but 
continued  there  for  a  very  brief  period.  It  was  his  father's  wish 
to  devote  him  to  the  service  of  the  Church ;  but,  burdened  with  a 
numerous  family,  he  was  unable  to  bear  the  additional  expenses 
of  a  fitting  education  for  that  important  sphere,  and  therefore 
took  him  from  the  grammar-school,  and  gave  him  a  commercial 
education  in  a  private  establishment  kept  by  Mr.  George  Brown- 
well.  At  ten  years  of  age  he  was  able  to  help  hi«  father  in  the 
business  of  cutting  wicks,  filling  moulds,  etc.,  but,  disliking  the 
occupation,  conceived  the  idea,  common  to  all  dissatisfied  youth, 
of  going  to  sea.  In  order  to  divert  his  mind  from  this  project, 
his  father  took  him  round  to  various  manufactories  and  work- 


430  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

*  • 

shops,  in  order  that  he  might  see  the  operations  of  the  workmen, 
and  thus  fix  on  some  profession  that  would  be  agreeable  to  his 
taste.  The  elder  Franklin  determined  in  favor  of  the  cutlers 
trade,  and  endeavored  to  place  Benjamin  with  a  member  of  that 
craft ;  but  the  latter  demanded  too  large  a  fee,  and  he  was  taken 
home  again,  with  a  gloomy  prospect  of  the  candle  and  chandlery 
business.  At  lengfh  it  was  resolved  that  Benjamin  (who  from  his 
earliest  days  had  displayed  a  strong  bookish  inclination)  should 
be  apprenticed  to  his  brother  James,  a  printer,  who  had  just  es- 
tablished himself  in  business  (1717).  According  to  the  absurd 
custom  of  that  day,  he  was  bound  for  no  less  a  period  than  nine 
years — that  is  to  say,  until  he  was  twenty-one  years  of  age.  In 
a  little  time  he  made  great  progress  in  the  business,  and  became 
a  useful  hand  to  his  brother.  What  attached  him  most  to  the 
business  was  the  additional  facility  with  which  he  could  now  ob- 
tain books  for  reading.  With  these  he  would  delight  himself  on 
every  possible  opportunity,  often  sitting  up  in  his  chamber  the 
greater  part  of  the  night,  in  order  that  he  might  punctually  return 
the  book  he  had  borrowed.  In  course  of  time,  the  activity  of  his 
mind  began  to  display  itself  in  various  ways,  such  as  discussing 
ethical  topics  with  his  companions,  and  building  up  verses  on  the 
popular  events  of  the  day.  His  father  watched  his  progress  with 
calm  interest,  and  freely  criticised  what  attempts  at  literary  pro- 
ductions fell  in  his  way,  and,  what  was  more  extraordinary,  even 
succeeded  in  convincing  his  son  that  they  were  not  remarkable  for 
elegance  of  expression,  method,  or  perspicuity.  To  remedy  these 
defects,  the  young  man  procured  an  odd  volume  of  the  Spectator, 
and  endeavored  to  imitate  the  Addisonian  style  of  writing.  In 
order  to  increase  his  stock  of  words,  he  turned  some  of  the  articles 
into  verse,  and  after  a  time,  when  he  had  pretty  well  forgotten  the 
prose,  turned  them  back  again.  The  time  he  allotted  for  writing 
exercises  and  for  reading  was  at  night,  or  before  work  began  in 
the  morning,  or  on  Sunday. 

When  about  sixteen  years  of  age  he  became  a  convert  to  the 
vegetarian  doctrine,  and  refused  to  eat  the  flesh  of  any  animal 
that  had  been«slaughtered  for  food.  He  was  a  little  annoyed  by 
the  members  of  his  brother's  family,  with  whom  he  boarded,  on 
account  of  this  sudden  and  somewhat  remarkable  conversion,  and 
therefore  determined  to  board  himself.  He  proposed  it  to  his 
brother,  and  agreed  that,  if  the  latter  would  give  him  weekly  half 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN.  431 

the  money  he  paid  for  his  board,  he  would  take  care  of  himself. 
Of  course,  his  brother  acquiesced  in  such  an  economical  arrange- 
ment, and  Benjamin  found  that  out  of  his  small  sum  he  could 
save  at  least  half  for  the  purchase  of  books.  This  was  not  the 
only  economy,  for,  owing  to  the  lightness  of  his  repasts,  they  did 
not  take  him  long  to  dispatch,  and  he  had  the  greater  part  of  the 
usual  dinner-hour  left  to  himself. 

Franklin's  brother  was  the  proprietor  of  a  newspaper,  which 
he  had  started  in  1720  or  1721,  and  which  was  the  second  news- 
paper in  America.  It  was  called  the  Neio  England  Courant,  and 
the  subject  of  this  memoir  assisted,  of  course,  in  doing  the  press- 
Avork  and  setting  up  the  type.  The  contributors  to  this  paper 
were  principally  among  the  private  friends  of  Mr.  James  Franklin, 
and  often  came  to  the  office  to  talk  over  the  affairs  of  the  colony, 
and  listen  to  a  littte  mutual  admiration.  Benjamin's  ambition 
became  excited,  aR  he  made  up  his  mind  to  have  a  try  at 
newspaper  writing  ;  but,  doubting  if  his  brother  would  publish  a 
contribution  if  he  knew  it  to  be  from  his  pen,  he  disguised  his 
hand,  and  put  the  manuscript  under  the  door  of  the  printing- 
house.  It  was  found  in  the  morning,  and  placed  in  the  hands  of 
the  writing  friends  who  formed  the  literary  tribunal  of  the  estab- 
lishment. They  read  it,  commented  on  it  in  Benjamin's  hearing, 
and  he  had  the  exquisite  pleasure  of  finding  that  it  met  with  their 
approbation,  and  that,  in  their  different  guesses  at  the  author,  none 
were  named  but  men  of  some  character  for  learning  and  ingenuity. 
He  followed  up  this  first  attempt  with  many  others,  until  he  could 
keep  his  secret  no  longer,  and  so  made  it  known.  His  brother 
treated  him  with  a  little  more  consideration  after  this,  but  mix- 
ed with  it  somewhat  of  jealousy.  He  was  afraid  his  apprentice 
would  get  too  vain,  and  forget  that  he  had  a  master.  A  good 
deal  of  unhappiness  resulted,  and  Ben,  like  the  monkey  in  the 
story,  received  more  kicks  than  halfpence  for  his  exertions.  His 
brother  was  very  passionate,  and  often  struck  him  without  reason- 
able provocation.  Ben  began  to  yearn  for  some  opportunity  of 
shortening  the  term  of  his  hardships,  and  soon  found  it  in  a  very 
unexpected  but  agreeable  manner.  An  article  in  the  paper  gave 
offense  to  the  authorities,  and  the  proprietor,  Mr.  James  Franklin, 
was  imprisoned  for  a  month.  In  those  days  the  liberty  of  the  press 
was  not  so  thoroughly  understood  as  in  the  present,  and,  if  an 
editor  said  an  unpleasant  thing,  he  stood  a  very  good  chance  of 


432  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

paying  the  penalty  of  his  temerity  among  the  common  felons  of 
a  jail.  During  his  brother's  confinement  the  management  of 
the  paper  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  young  Benjamin,  and  he 
gave  the  authorities  some  rubs  on  the  subject  of  liberty  of  speech. 
When  James  was  discharged  from  prison,  his  release  was  accom- 
panied with  an  order  that  "  he  should  no  longer'  print  the  news- 
paper called  the  New  England  Courant"  It  was  proposed  to  elude 
this  order  by  printing  the  paper  in  the  name  of  Benjamin  Frank- 
lin, and,  in  order  to  avoid  the  censure  of  the  Assembly,  James  con- 
sented ttfat  the  latter's  indentures  should  be  canceled.  This  was 
accordingly  done,  and  for  some  months  all  went  well;  but  fresh 
differences  took  place  between  the  two  brothers,  and  a  separation 
ensued.  Ben  sold  his  books,  and  with  the  proceeds  started  secret- 
ly for  New  York,  where  he  arrived  (October,  1723)  without  the 
least  recommendation  or  knowledge  of  any  person  in  the  place. 
He  was  unable  to  gain  employment,  and  Mrefore  went  on  to 
Philadelphia,  where  he  arrived  hungry,  sore-footed,  and  travel- 
soiled.  His  first  visit  was  to  the  baker's,  where  he  purchased 
three  penny  worth  of  bread,  consisting  of  three  great  puffy  rolls, 
one  of  which  he  placed  under  each  arm,  eating  the  other  through 
the  principal  streets.  A  draught  from  the  river  completed  his 
frugal  meal.  On  his  way  he  met  many  well-dressed  persons, 
who  all  seemed  to  go  in  the  same  direction.  Ben  joined  them, 
and  thereby  was  led  into  the  great  meeting-house  of  the  Quakers. 
He  sat  down  among  them,  and,  feeling  drowsy,  soon  fell  fast 
asleep,  and  continued  so  until  the  meeting  broke  up,  when  some 
one  was  kind  enough  to  rouse  him. 

He  was  more  successful  in  Philadelphia  than  he  had  been  in 
New  York,  and,  after  a  few  days,  obtained  a  situation  as  press- 
man to  one  Keimer,  an  individual  who  united  the  professions  of 
printer  and-  poet,  and  composed  verses  in  type  directly  out  of  his 
head.  By  industry  and  frugality,  Ben  succeeded — as  all  young 
men  must  succeed — very  well.  No  one  knew  of  his  whereabouts 
except  a  Boston  crony  who  had  assisted  in  his  escape,  and  had 
kept  the  secret  faithfully;  nor  did  he  desire  that  his  brother, 
who  had  tried  with  some  success  to  injure  his  reputation  in  oth- 
er cities,  should  know  of  his  retreat.  But  the  difficulty  of  keep- 
ing a  secret  is  proverbial,  especially  if  you  want  to  do  so.  An 
incident  occurred  which .  completely  upset  all  Benjamin's  plan? 
for  the  future.  A  brother-in-law,  Robert  Holmes,  master  of  a 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN.  433 

sloop  that  traded  between  Boston  and  Delaware,  hearing  of  the 
young  man,  wrote  a  letter  to  him,  mentioning  the  grief  of  his  re- 
lations, and  exhorting  him  to  communicate  with  or  return  to  them, 
and  promising  that  every  thing  should  be  arranged  in  a  satisfac- 
tory manner.  Ben  wrote  an  answer  to  this  letter,  thanking  him 
for  his  advice,  and  stating  his  reasons  for  quitting  Boston  in  sucli 
a  full  and  convincing  manner  that  he  soon  discovered  the  lad  was 
not  so  much  in  the  wrong  as  he  had  at  first  supposed.  Sir  Wil- 
liam Keith,  governor  of  the  province,  happened  to  see  this  letter, 
and  was  much  struck  with  its  force  and  clearness,  and,  seeing  that 
the  writer  was  a  young  man  of  promising  parts,  encouraged  him, 
and  said  that,  as  the  printers  of  Philadelphia  were  very  poor  ones, 
he  would  set  him  up  there,  and  use  all  his  influence  to  get  him 
into  business.  In  the  mean  time  it  was  to  be  kept  a  secret,  and 
our  hero  went  on  working  for  Keimer,  who,  you  may  rest  assured, 
was  not  a  little  surprised  to  find  one  of  his  workmen  on  such  ami- 
cable terms  with  the  principal  personage  in  the  state.  In  1724 
Franklin  returned  to  Boston.  His  unexpected  appearance  sur- 
prised the  family ;  all,  however,  were  very  glad  to  give  him  wel- 
come, except  his  brother,  who  eyed  him  from  head  to  foot  in  a 
cold  way,  and  went  on  with  his  work  again.  Ben  was  partly  to 
blame  for  this,  for  he  made  a  display  of  his  worldly  success  by 
showing  his  money  and  his  watch  to  the  workmen,  and  thus  irri- 
tated his  brother,  who  said  that  he  insulted  him  before  his  people 
— stupidly  forgetting  that  the  money  and  the  watch  were  the 
results  of  industry  and  economy,  and  not  of  kindness  in  a  new 
master. 

Ben's  father  did  not  approve  of  the  governor's  plan  of  starting 
him  in  business  on  his  own  account,  although  he  was,  of  course, 
agreeably  nattered  and  impressed  by  tha  friendship  of  that  gen- 
tleman. His  principal  fear  was  that  the  lad  was  too  young  and 
inexperienced  in  the  ways  of  the  world.  But  the  governor  was 
not  discouraged,  and  on  Ben's  return  to  Philadelphia  still  insist- 
ed on  his  plan,  and  went  so  far  as  to  promise  to  supply  him  with 
money  to  procure  all  necessary  materials  from  England.  He  went 
even  farther  than  this,  and  suggested  that  the  lad  should  himself 
go  to  England  and  select  all  the  things  he  required,  and  establish 
correspondences  in  the  bookselling  and  stationary  line.  Accord- 
ingly, our  hero  prepared  for  the  voyage,  and  waited  anxiously  for 
the  letters  of  credit  which  the  governor  promised  to  give  him. 

T 


434  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

For  these  letters  he  called  at  different  times,  but  a  future  day 
was  always  named,  and  in  this  manner  the  days  slipped  away. 
Having  taken  leave  of  his  friends,  and  exchanged  promises  with 
Miss  Read,  a  young  lady  of  Philadelphia,  for  whom  he  entertain- 
ed tender  sentiments,  our  hero  quitted  the  city,  and  floated  down 
to  the  anchorage  at  Newcastle.  When  he  went  to  the  governor's 
lodgings,  the  secretary  came  to  him,  and,  with  many  expressions 
of  regret,  said  that,  the  governor  was  much  engaged,  but  that  he 
would  send  the  necessary  letters  on  board,  and  that  they  would 
be  found  all  right,  and  many  other  things  to  the  same  effect.  The 
governor's  dispatches  came  on  board  sure  enough,  and  Ben  was 
happy  in  the  belief  that  his  letters  were  among  them.  The  bags 
Avere  opened  in  the  English  Channel,  and  he  found  six  or  seven 
with  his  name  on  them  as  under  his  care,  and  as  one  was  direct- 
ed to  the  king's  printer,  and  another  to  a  stationer,  he  thought 
all  was  right.  He  arrived  in  England  on  the  24th  of  December, 
1724,  and  immediately  waited  on  the  stationer,  and  delivered 
what  he  supposed  to  be  his  letter  from  Governor  Keith.  "  1  don't 
know  such  a  person,"  said  he ;  but,  opening  the  letter,  "  oh,  this 
is  from  Riddlesden.  I  have  lately  found  him  to  be  a  complete 
rascal,  and  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  him,  nor  receive  any 
letters  from  him."  There  was  not  a  single  letter  from  the  gov- 
ernor, who,  it  seems,  was  a  weak  person,  and  made  promises  with- 
out the  slightest  idea  of  fulfilling  them.  Thus«was  Franklin 
thrown  on  the  world  once  more,  with  nothing  but  habits  of  in- 
dustry and  economy  to  depend  on.  He  lost  no  time  in  looking 
out  for  work,  and  immediately  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  situation 
in  a  famous  printing-office.  From  step  to  step  he  rose  in  the 
good  esteem  of  his  employers,  making,  also,  many  friends  among 
the  learned  and  curious.  He  remained  in  London  for  about 
eighteen  months,  and  then  thought  of  taking  a  journeyman  tour 
through  Europe  with  a  companion  printer ;  but  this  scheme  was 
frustrated  by  a  Mr.  Denham,  a  gentleman  who  became  acquaint- 
ed with  our  hero  on  the  voyage  out,  and  who,  from  observation 
of  his  general  habits  and  unquestionable  ability,  entertained  a  sin- 
cere respect  for  him.  Mr.  Denham  was -now  about  returning  to 
America  with  a  great  quantity  of  goods  for  a  store  which  he  in- 
tended to  open,  and1  proposed  to  take  Franklin  with  him  as  his 
clerk.  He  added,  that,  as. soon  as  he  should  be  acquainted  with 
mercantile  business,  he  would  send  him  with  a  cargo  of  flour  and 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN.  435 

breadstuff's  to  the  West  Indies,  and  procure  him  profitable  com- 
missions from  other  houses,  and,  if  he  managed  well,  would  event- 
ually establish  him  handsomely  in  business  on  his  own  account. 
The  thing  pleased  Franklin,  and  he  immediately  closed  with  Mr. 
Denham.  On  the  23d  of  July,  1726,  he  set  sail  from  Gravesend, 
and,  after  a  voyage-of  nearly  three  months,  arrived  once  more  in 
Philadelphia.  Keith  was  no  longer  governor,  but  our  hero  met 
him  walking  in  the  streets  like  an  ordinary  citizen.  He  seemed 
to  be  a  little  ashamed,  and  walked  on  without  saying  any  thing. 
In  the  mean  time,  his  old  sweetheart,  Miss  Bead,  had  despaired  of 
the  fidelity  of  her  lover  (who,  very  wrongly,  neglected  to  answer 
her  letters),  and,  by  the  advice  of  her  friends,  had  married.  It 
was  not  a  happy  union.  Her  husband  turned  out  a  dissolute  fel- 
low, and,  after  giving  her  much  uneasiness,  deserted  her,  and 
finally  died  in  the  West  Indies.  Mr.  Denham  opened  a  store  in 
Water  Street,  and  every  thing  went  on  in  the  most  amicable  way. 
Franklin  respected  and  loved  him,  and  he  looked  on  our  hero  as 
a  son.  They  might  have  gone  on  together  very  happily,  but,  un- 
fortunately, in  February,  1727,  they  were  both  taken  ill.  Frank- 
lin's distemper  was  a  pleurisy.  He  suffered  greatly,  and  gave  up 
the  point  in  his  own  mind,  and  says,  in  his  Autobiography,  that 
he  was,  at  the  time,  rather  disappointed  when  he  found  himself 
getting  better,  inasmuch  as  at  some  future  time  he  would  have 
all  that  unpleasant  work  to  go  through  again.  Mr.  Denham  was 
not  so  fortunate  ;  he  suffered  a  long  time,  and  was  at  last  carried 
to  the  grave.  He  remembered  his  protege  in  his  will,  bequeath- 
ing him  a  small  legacy  as  a  mark  of  his  respect.  Once  more 
Franklin  was  left  to  the  wide  world,  not  much  richer,  in  a  pe- 
cuniary point  of  view,  than  on  former  occasions,  but  with  an  in- 
creased wealth  of  reputation,  and  a  better  knowledge  of  the  de- 
vious ways  of  life.  Keimer,  his  old  master,  was  still  in  business, 
and,  to  all  appearance,  flourishing.  He  had  not  forgotten  his 
young  workman,  and  tempted  him  with  the  offer  of  large  wages 
to  take  the  management  of  his  printing-house.  Franklin  closed 
with  him  a  little  unwillingly,  for  he  did  not  like  the  man,  on 
account  of  his  loose  moral  principles.  Franklin  soon  perceived 
that  Keimer's  object  in  engaging  him  at  liberal  wages  was  sim- 
ply that  he  might  use  him  as  an  instructor  for  his  other  hands, 
most  of  whom  were  new  to  the  trade.  He  went  about  his  busi- 
ness very  cheerfully,  however,  and  made  himself  useful  in  every 


436  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

possible  way ;  even  contriving  to  cast  new  type — a  process  un- 
known in  America  at  that  time — to  make  the  ink  used  in  printing, 
and  to  engrave  small  things  for  ornaments.  Notwithstanding  his 
diligence,  he  soon  found  that  his  services  became  every  day  less 
important  as  the  other  hands  improved,  and  Keimer  began  to 
grumble  about  the  wages.  At  length  a  trifle*  snapped  their  con- 
nection. A  great  noise  occurred  in  the  court-house,  and  Frank- 
lin, curious  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  popped  his  head  out  of 
the  window  to  take  a  look.  Keimer  was  in  the  street,  and,  see- 
ing him,  called  out  in  a  loud  and  angry  voice,  bidding  him  mind 
his  business,  and  adding  some  reproachful  words,  rendered,  doubly 
nettling  from  their  publicity.  He  afterward  resumed  the  quarrel 
in  the  printing-office,  until  stopped  by  Franklin,  who  calmly  took 
his  hat  and  walked  out  of  the  room. 

One  of  Keimer' s  hands  was  a  young  Welshman  named  Mere- 
dith, between  whom  and  our  hero  had  sprung  up  a  spirit  of  fellow- 
ship. He  sympathized  with  Franklin  in  his  recent  trouble,  and 
advised  him  to  set  up  for  himself.  Franklin  objected  that  he  had 
no  money.  "That  can  soon  be  remedied,"  he  answered;  "if  you 
will  take  me  for  a  partner,  my  father  will  supply  us  with  all  the 
money  we  want."  It  was  soon  arranged  between  them  that  they 
should  try  their  fortunes  together  in  the  coming  spring.  In  the 
mean  time,  a  sort  of  conciliation  was  brought  about  by  Keimer, 
who  once  more  wanted  Franklin's  assistance,  and  the  latter  re- 
sumed work  under  his  employ. 

It  was  during  this  winter  that  our  hero  started  the  famous 
"Junto"  club.  It  consisted  of  a  number  of  young  men,  who  met 
for  mutual  improvement.  Franklin  drew  up  the  rules,  and  re- 
quired that  every  member,  in  his  turn,  should  produce  one  or 
more  queries  on  any  point  of  morals,  politics,*  or  natural  philoso- 
phy, to  be  discussed  by  the  company,  and  once  in  three  months 
produce  and  read  an  essay  of  his  own  writing,  on  any  subject  he 
pleased.  The  club  continued  in  existence  for  upward  of  forty 
years,  and  was  the  best  school  of  philosophy,  morality,  and  poli- 
tics that  then  existed  in  the  province.  Among  the  members 
was  the  celebrated  mathematician,  Thomas  Godfrey,  inventor  of 
what  is  now  called  Hadley's  Quadrant,  and  very  unjustly  so 
called. 

When  Franklin  &  Meredith  commenced  in  the  following  spring, 
they  derived  a  good  deal  of  benefit  from  the  patronage  of  the  club, 


•BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN.  437 

every  member  of  which  exerted  himself  to  procure  patronage  for 
the  young  firm.  Dr.  Baird,  speaking  of  Franklin  at  this  time, 
said,  "The  industry  of  that  Franklin  is  superior  to  any  thing  I 
ever  saw  of  the  kind ;  I  see  him  still  at  work  when  I  go  home 
from  the  club,  and-  he  is  at  work  again  before  his  neighbors  are 
out  of  bed."  This  observable  industry  soon  brought  its  reward; 
work  flowed  in  steadily,  and  the  wholesale  houses  were  anxious 
to  extend  credit  to  the  young  firm.  Franklin,  whose  passion  for 
writing  never  deserted  him,  now  began  to  think  of  .starting  a  pa- 
per on  his  own  account ;  but  Keimer,  who  heard  of  the  intention, 
forestalled  it  by  issuing  one  himself.  Our  hero  was  of  course 
vexed  at  this,  and,  to  counteract  the  effect  as  much  as  possible, 
shrewdly  commenced  writing  for  an  opposition  paper.  By  this 
means  the  attention  of  the  public  was  diverted  to  that  paper,  and 
Keimer's  was  burlesqued  and  ridiculed.  After  carrying  it  on  for 
three  quarters  of  a  year,  the  latter  was  glad  to  dispose  of  it  to 
Franklin  (1729).  It  must  not  be  supposed  that  our  hero's  career 
was  altogether  smooth.  He  had  many  difficulties  to  contend  with, 
and  especially  with  respect  to  his  partner,  Meredith,  who,  in  addi- 
tion to  being  a  very  indifferent  workman,  was  also  addicted  to  the 
vice  of  drunkenness.  Besides  this,  Mr.  Meredith's  father,  who 
was  to  have  paid  for  the  materials  used  in  the  business,  was  un- 
able to  advance  more  than  one  hundred  pounds,  leaving  a  hundred 
more  still  due  to  the  merchants,  who  grew  impatient,  and  com- 
menced actions  at  law.  Honesty  and  industry  always  have  pro- 
tectors, and  Franklin  found  two  friends  who  came  to  his  rescue. 
Shortly  afterward  Meredith  retired  from  the  business,  and  Frank- 
lin was  his  own  master.  The  frugality  and  perseverance  with 
which  he  pursued  it  attracted  the  attention  of  every  one.  "  In 
order  to  secure  my  credit  and  character  as  a  tradesman,"  he  says, 
"  I  took  care  to  be  not  only  in  reality  industrious  and  frugal,  but 
to  avoid  the  appearances  of  the  contrary.  I  dressed  plain,  and 
was  seen  at  no  places  of  idle  diversion.  I  never  went  out  a  fish- 
ing or  shooting;  a  book,  indeed,  sometimes  debauched  me  from 
my  work,  but  that  was  seldom,  was  private,  and  gave  no  scan- 
dal ;  and,  to  show  that  I  was  not  above  my  business,  I  sometimes 
brought  home  the  paper  I  purchased  at  the  stores  through  the 
streets  on  a  wheelbarrow.  Thus,  being  esteemed  an  industrious, 
thriving  young  man,  and  paying  duly  for  what  I  bought,  the 
merchants  who  imported  stationery  solicited  my  custom ;  oth- 


438  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ers  proposed  supplying  me  with  books,  and  I  went  on  prosper- 
ously." 

In  September,  1730,  Franklin  (after  an  unsuccessful  and  some- 
what mercenary  flirtation  with  another  young  lady)  married  his 
former  love,  who  was  now  a  widow,  and  who-  proved  a  good  and 
faithful  helpmate.  About  this  time^ also,  he  put  on  foot  his  first 
project  of  a  public  library.  Proposals  were  drawn  up,  and,  by 
the  help  of  his  friends  and  the  members  of  the  "Junto,"  fifty 
subscribers  were  obtained.  Afterward  a  charter  was  granted, 
and  the  company  increased  to  one  hundred  subscribers.  This 
was  the  parent  of  all  the  North  American  subscription  libraries, 
now  so  numerous  and  highly  esteemed.  In  1732  Franklin  com- 
menced the  publication  of  his  famous  Almanac,  under  the  name 
of  Richard  Saunders.  It  was  continued  for  twenty-five  years, 
and  commonly  called  Poor  Richards  Almanac.  The  feature  of 
this  publication  was  the  immense  amount  of  practical  wisdom  it 
contained,  conveyed  mostly  in  the  shape  of  proverbs.  These 
proverbs,  which  contained  the  wisdom  of  many  ages  and  nations, 
were  afterward  put  into  a  connected  form,  and  prefixed  to  the 
Almanac  of  1757  as  the  harangue  of  a  wise  old  man  to  the  people 
attending  an  auction.  The  piece  met  with  universal  approbation, 
was  copied  into  all  the  papers,  and  translated  into  many  lan- 
guages. The  Almanac  was  a  source  of  considerable  wealth  to  the 
compile1*.  In  1733  Franklin  began  to  study  languages,  and  soon 
mastered  the  French,  Italian,  and  Spanish.  He  was  surprised  to 
find,  on  looking  over  a  Latin  Testament,  that  he  understood  more 
of  that  language  than  he  had  imagined,  and  was  therefore  encour- 
aged to  undertake  the  study  of  it.  In  1736  he  received  his  first 
public  promotion  by  being  chosen  clerk  of  the  General  Assembly, 
and  was  reappointed  the  following  year,  notwithstanding  the  pow- 
erful opposition  of  a  member  whose  fortune,  education,  and  talents 
fve  him  great  influence  in  the  House.  Franklin,  with  his  usual 
rewdness,  saw  -the  propriety  of  conciliating  this  opponent,  not 
by  any  servile  advances,  but  by  the  establishment  of  some  mutual 
feeling  between  them.  Having  heard  that  he  possessed  a  certain 
scarce  and  curious  book,  our  hero  wrote  a  note  to  him,  express- 
ing a  strong  desire  to  peruse  it,  and  requesting  that  he  might  be 
favored  with  the  loan  of  it  for  a  few  days.  The  book  was  sent 
immediately,  and  Franklin  returned  it  after  a  week  with  a  polite 
note  of  thanks.  The  next  time  they  met  in  the  House  they  had 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN.  439 

something  to  talk  about,  and  immediately  afterward  became  great 
friends.  In  1737  Franklin  was  appointed  deputy  postmaster- 
general  at  Philadelphia.  He  now  began  to  turn  his  thoughts 
seriously  to  public  affairs,  and  rapidly  introduced  a  number  of 
important  municipal  reforms,  among  which  was  a  plan  for  better 
protecting  and  watching  the  property  of  the  city,  and  the  organ- 
ization of  a  citizen  fire  company,  the  first  ever  established  in 
America.  During  all  this  time  his  business  was  constantly  aug- 
menting, and  his  circumstances  daily  growing  easier.  In  1743 
he  drew  up  a  plan  for  establishing  an  academy  for  the  complete 
education  of  youth.  A  year  later  he  succeeded  in  establishing 
the  Philosophical  Society,  one  of  the  best  and  oldest  institutions 
in  the  country,  and  at  the  same  time  awakened  the  community  to 
a  proper  knowledge  of  the  defenseless  state  of  the  province,  and 
induced  the  establishment  of  several  militia  companies  and  the 
erection  of  a  battery.  He  was  appointed  to  all  sorts  of  city  offices, 
and  discharged  the  duties  pertaining  thereto  with  such  ability  that 
he  had  more  offers  for  similar  posts  than  he  could  well  afford  to 
attend  to.  So  much  respected  and  esteemed  was  he  by  his  fellow- 
citizens,  that  it  was  said  there  was  no  such  thing  as  carrying  a 
public  project  through  without  his  being  concerned  in  it.  In  1751, 
Dr.  Thomas  Bond.,  a  particular  friend  of  Franklin's,  conceived  the 
idea  of  establishing  a  hospital  in  Philadelphia  for  the  reception 
and  cure  of  poor  sick  people  of  every  condition.  Franklin  threw 
himself  into  the  scheme  with  ardor,  and  it  was  principally  through 
his  exertions  that  the  first  public  hospital  in  Philadelphia  was 
established. 

Disputes  and  difficulties  had  long  existed  between  the  English 
proprietaries  of  the  province  and  the  inhabitants  concerning  cer- 
tain exemptions  which  the  former  claimed,  but  which  the  latter 
Avould  not  concede.  Every  governor  who  came  over  from  the 
Old  Country,  filled  with  notions  of  privilege  and  power,  went  back 
again  with  a  flea  in  his  ear,  and  in  this  way  a  constant  feud  was 
maintained  between  one  portion  of  the  government  and  the  people. 
It  was  determined  to  bring  this  state  of  things  to  an  end  by  peti- 
tioning the  Ipng  in  person,  and  it  became  necessary  to  appoint  a 
fitting  agent  to  convey  the  document  to  England,  and  otherwise 
look  after  the  interests  of  the  American  people.  The  choice  fell 
on  Franklin,  and  once  more  he  crossed  the  Atlantic,  not  as  a  jour- 
neyman printer  in  search  of  employ,  but  as  the  representative  of 


440  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

a  people  who  demanded  their  rights.     He  arrived  in  London,  after 
a  narrow  escape  from  shipwreck,  on  the  27th  of  July,  1757. 

Before  we  proceed  farther  with  the  narrative  of  Franklin's  pub- 
lic career,  it  is  necessary  to  refer  at  some  length  to  another  phase 
of  his  character.  From  the  exactness  of  his  observation  and  the 
force  of  his  reasoning  powers  he  was  naturally  a  philosopher.  It 
cost  him  very  little  trouble  to  find  out  the  cause  of  things.  The 
restlessness  of  his  mind  led  him  into  irresistible  trains  of  investi- 
gation, which  inevitably  resulted  in  truth*  In  1746,  Dr.  Spence, 
a  Scottish  lecturer,  arrived  at  Boston,  and,  having  some  electrical 
apparatus,  performed  many  curious  experiments.  Although  not 
well  done,  they  were  sufficient  to  inflame  the  curiosity  of  our  hero, 
who  immediately  began  to  inquire  into  the  nature  and  properties 
of  electricity,  and  especially  the  source  whence  it  came.  After  a 
number  of  experiments,  conducted  with  great  exactness  and  sim- 
plicity, Franklin  constructed  the  general  outlines  of  his  theory. 
.All  bodies  in  nature,  he  considered,  had  a  certain  quantity  of  elec- 
tricity, which  might  be  diminished  by  part  being  given  out  to  an- 
other body,  or  increased  by  receiving  electricity  from  a  cylinder. 
In  the  one  case  he  regarded  the  body  as  negatively,  in  the  other 
as  positively  electrified.  In  the  one  case  it  had  less,  in  the  other 
more  than  its  natural  quantity;  in  either  case^ therefore,  suppos- 
ing it  to  be  composed  of  electricity  and  common  matter,  the  usual 
equilibrium  or  balance  between  its  two  constituent  ingredients 
was  for  the  time  upset  or  destroyed.  Upon  this  theory  Franklin 
constructed  a  system,  which  has  been  aptly  described  as  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  generalizations  in  the  whole  compass  of  sci- 
ence. A  brilliant  discovery  rewarded  the  philosopher  for  his 
hours,  of  patient  thought  and  investigation.  It  had  long  been 
surmised  that  electricity  and  the  lightning  of  the  heavens  were  one 
and  the  same  fluid,  but  no  one  had  succeeded  in  demonstrating 
that  such  was  actually  the  fact.  In  a  paper  dated  November  7, 
1 749,  Franklin  enumerates  all  the  known  poijits  of  resemblance 
between  lightning  and  electricity.  In  the  first  place,  he  remarks, 
it  is  no  wonder  that  the  effects  of  the  one  should  be  so  much 
greater  than  the  other ;  for  if  two  gun  barrels,  electrified,  will 
strike  at  the  distance  of  two  inches,  and  make  a  loud  report,  at 
how  great  a  distance  will  ten  thousand  acres  of  electrified  cloud 
strike  and  give  its  fire,  and  how  loud  must  be  "that  crack  ?  He 
then  notices  the  crooked  and  waving  course  both  of  the  flash  of 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN.  441 

lightning  and,  in  some  cases,  of  the  electric  sparks ;  the  tendency 
of  lightning,  like  electricity,  to  take  the  readiest  and  best  conduct- 
or ;  the  fact  that  lightning,  like  electricity,  dissolves  metals,  burns 
some  bodies,  rends  others,  strikes  people  blind,  destroys  animal 
life,  reverses  the  poles  of  magnets,  etc.  From  these  obvious-prem- 
ises  he  concludes  that  the  fluid  is  the  same.  But  how  to  dem- 
onstrate this,  so  that  no  kind  of  keen  skepticism  could  demolish 
the  fact  ?  At  first  he  thought  he  might  make  a  successful  series 
of  experiments  from  some  high  tower,  such  as  the  spire  of  a 
church,  etc. ;  but  there  was  no  such  thing  at  hand.  It  is  true 
a  large  spire  was  in  process  of  erection,  but  it  might  be  months, 
years,  before  it  was  finished,  and  men  on  the  eve  of  a  great  dis- 
covery are  naturally  impatient.  Other  means  were  to  be  discov- 
ered. The  philosopher  walked  about,  and  measured  the  height 
of  every  projection  in  his  mind's  eye.  None  of  them  were  tall 
enough  to  snatch  the  lightnings  from  the  heavens  and  land  them 
in  safety  at  his  feet ;  not  even  the  trees,  whose  riven  trunks  spoke 
only  of  their  fury.  One  day  he  was  taking  a  thoughtful  walk  in 
his  accustomed  way,  quietly  watching  eveiy  thing  and  turning  it 
to  philosophical  account.  His  attention  was  directed  to  a  little 
boy,  who,  with  a  face  full  of  glee,  watched  the  stately  sweepings 
of  a  kite  which  he  had  sent  up  high  into  the  sky.  In  a  moment 
the  idea  struck  him  that  here  was  the  method  of  reaching  the 
clouds  in  the  quickest  and  most  inexpensive  manner.  He  went 
home  and  constructed  a^ite  of  silk,  and  with  this  simple  appara- 
tus awaited  the  next  tb,under-storm.  It  came,  and,  accompanied 
only  by  his  son,  Franklin  repaired  to  the  fields,  raised  the  kite,  and 
waited  the  result.  This  was  in  June,  1752.  To  the  lower  end 
of  the  string  he  fastened  a  key,  and  insulated  it  by  attaching  it  to 
a  post  with  silk  threads.  For  some  time  no  effect  was  percepti- 
ble. At  length,  however,  just  as  Franklin  was  beginning  to  de- 
spair, he  observed  some  loose  ends  of  the  hempen  string  rise  and 
stand  erect,  indicating  that  they  were  under  the  influence  of  the 
electric  fluid.  He  immediately  applied  his  knuckles  to  the  key, 
and,  to  his  inexpressible  joy,  drew  forth  the  well-known  spark,  and 
received  the  most  welcome  rap  of  the  knuckles  that  any  man  ever 
received.  As  the  rain  came  on,  the  kite  and  the  cord  became 
better  conductors,  and  the  key  gave  out  copious  streams  of  elec- 
tricity. By  this  simple  experiment,  Franklin  solved  the  great 
philosophical  problem  of  the  day,  and  gained  a  merited  immortal- 

T  2 


442  .SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ity.  .  Eminently  practical  in  every  thing  he  did,  his  next  endeav- 
or was  to  render  this  discovery  of  some  benefit  to  mankind.  He 
was  not  long  in  doing  so.  Wherever  you  see  a  lightning  con- 
ductor guarding  the  exposed  angles  of  a  dwelling,  and  arresting 
the  fierce  thrusts  of  the  forked  lightning,  think  of  Franklin.  He 
was  the  inventor' of  lightning  conductors. 

In  course  of  time,  the  fame  of  these  experiments  reached  Eu- 
rope. Franklin  was  recognized  as  an  eminent  philosopher,  and 
his  papers  were  quickly  translated  into  the  European  languages. 
Many  learned  degrees  were  conferred  on  him,  and  the  Royal  So- 
ciety of  London  made  amends  for  early  neglect  by  voluntarily 
choosing  him  a  member  of  their  body  ;  remitting  all  tho  custom- 
ary fees,  and  furnishing  him  with  their  "  Transactions"  gratui- 
tously. In  1753  they  presented  him  with  the  gold  medal  of  Sir 
Godfrey  Copley,  accompanied  with  a  very  handsome  speech. 
Some  years  afterward,  the  University  of  St.  Andrew's  conferred 
upon  him  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws,  and  its  example  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  Universities  of  Edinburgh  and  Oxford. 

We  have  dwelt  exclusively  on  Franklin's  electrical  experiments 
and  discoveries,  for  it  is  on  these  that  his  fame  principally  rests ; 
but,  if  our  space  permitted,  we  could  dilate  with  equal  pleasure 
on  other  phases  of  his  philosophical  career.  We  must,  however, 
return  to  the  memoir  of  his  life,  now  entirely  devoted  to  the  pub- 
lic good,  and  will  only  add,  in  the  words  of  Lord  Brougham,  that 
"  his  discoveries  were  made  with  hardlx  any  apparatus  at  all ; 
and  if  at  any  time  he  had  been  led  to  employ  instruments  of  a 
somewhat  less  ordinary  description,  he  never  seemed  satisfied  un- 
til he  had,  as  it  were,  afterward  translated  the  process  by  resolv- 
ing the  problem  with  such  simple  machinery  that  you  might  say 
he  had  done  it  wholly  unaided  by  apparatus." 

Franklin's  mission  to  London  as  the  agent  of  the  Assembly 
comprehended  more  than  had  been  intrusted  to  any  previous 
agency.  It  was  one  not  only  of  reconciliation,  but  of  remedy — 
to  cure  and  to  prevent.  Innumerable  difficulties  were,  of  course, 
thrown  in  his  way  by  the  jflroprietaries,  and  for  the  first  year  lit- 
tle or  nothing  was  done.  The  public  mind,  too,  was  distracted 
by  the  war  on  the  Continent,  and  public  men  were  querulous 
with  the  colonists  for  making  a  noise  about  their  affairs  at  such 
a  moment.  Franklin  found  plenty  to  do,  however.  He  vindi- 
cated his  cause  with  his  pen,  and  the  journalist  who  ventured  to 


• 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN.  443 

attack  him  invariably  got  the  worst  of  it.  Several  brisk  fights 
took  place,  and  any  number  of  pamphlets  were  discharged  by  the 
disputants.  It  was  not  until  1760  that  the  business  upon  which 
he  was  sent  to  England  was  satisfactorily  concluded.  In  the  fol- 
lowing summer  he  made  a  tour  of  Europe,  and  in  August,  1762, 
arrived  once  more  in  Philadelphia.  During  his  absence  he  had 
been  chosen  to  represent  the  city  in  the  Provincial  Assembly, 
and  on  his  appearance  in  the  House  they  voted  three  thousand 
pounds  to  defray  his  expenses,  and  their  thanks  for  his  services 
on  their  behalf.  "  Franklin  replied  that  he  was  thankful  to  the 
House  for  the  very  handsome  and  generous  allowance  they  had 
been  pleased  to  make  him  for  his  services,  but  that  the  approba- 
tion of  the  House  was  in  his  estimation  far  above  every  other 
kind  of  recompense." 

It  was  not  possible  to  effect  any  lasting  sympathy  between  the 
English  proprietors  and  the  colonists.  The  governor  appointed 
by  the  former  was  always  too  ready  to  lend  himself  to  their  inter- 
ests, and  to  abuse  the  confidence  and  liberality ^of  the  Americans. 
After  again  experiencing  the  truth  of  this,  the  Pennsylvanians 
determined  on  their  often-threatened  appeal  to  the  throne,  pray- 
ing the  king  to  take  the  province  out  of  the  hands  of  the  proprie- 
taries, and  assume  its  government.  This  course  had  been  pursued 
by  several  other  provinces,  and  always  with  decided  advantage. 
Franklin  warmly  approved  of  the  plan,  and,  in  consequence,  in- 
curred the  displeasure  of  the  governmental  members,  and,  mainly 
through  their  exertions,  lost  his  seat  in  the  House.  But  he  was 
encouraged  by  the  people,  and  in  spite  of  all  opposition,  and  to 
the  intense  chagrin  of  the  governor,  was  appointed  once  more  a 
commissioner  to  England  to  present  the  petition,  and  discharge 
all  necessary  duties  relating  thereto.  "  Under  whatever  circum- 
stances this  second  mission  was  undertaken,  it  appears  to  have 
been  a  measure  preordained  of  Heaven ;  and  it  will  be  forever 
remembered  to  the  honor  of  Pennsylvania  that  the  agent  selected 
to  assert  and  defend  th#  rights  of  a  single  province  at  the  court  of 
Great  Britain  became  the  bold  assertor  of  the  rights  of  America 
in  general,  and,  beholding  the  fetters  that  were  forging  for  her, 
conceived  the  magnanimous  thought  of  rending  them  asunder  be- 
fore they  could  be  riveted."*  On  the  7th  of  November — less  than 
a  fortnight  after  his  appointment — Franklin  embarked  at  Chester 
*  Dr.  William  Smith. 


444  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

for  England.  A  cavalcade  of  three  hundred  of  his  friends  attended 
him  to  the  wharf,  and  took  an  affectionate  farewell.  The  expenses  . 
of  his  agency  were  subscribed  by  the  merchants  of  Philadelphia,  to 
be  reimbursed  by  the  next  Assembly.  Franklin  reached  Ports- 
mouth on  the  9th  of  December,  1764,  after  a  short  passage  of 
thirty  days.  He  found  the  people  of  England  more  occupied 
with  th»  affairs  of  America  than  usual,  arising  from  the  discus- 
sions on  the  Stamp  Act  in  the  newspapers  and  in  the  houses  of 
Parliament,  and  the  opposition  which  that  measure  had  provoked 
in  the  colonies.  He  complained  of  the  disposition  of  the  people. 
"Every  man  in  England,"  he  said,  "seems  to  consider  himself  as 
a  piece  of  a  sovereign  over  America,  seems  to  jostle  himself  into 
the  throne  with  the  king,  and  talks  of  our  subjects  in  the  coloniZs." 
Once  more  he  took  up  the  cudgels  for  his  countrymen,  and  fought 
their  battles  in  the  newspapers.  In  the  mean  time,  the  object  of 
his  mission  seemed  to  progress  favorably,  and  there  appeared  to 
be  every  reason  for  supposing  that  the  king  would  receive  the  pe- 
tition. On  the  22d  of  March,  1765,  however,  the  famous  Stamp 
Act  was  passed.  Franklin  had  opposed  it  with  all  the  force  and 
ability  he  could  command,  but  without  avail.  The  English  min- 
isters were  irritated  with  the  independent  tone  of  the  colonists, 
and  not  disposed  to  listen  to  the  cool  reasoning  of  their  representa- 
tive. It  is  fortunate  for  us  that  they  did  not.  The  law  became 
a  dead  letter ;  at  the  beginning  of  1776  not  a  single  stamp  was 
to  be  found  in  America.  Every  schoolboy  knows  the  history  of 
this  remarkable  period,  and  it  is  not  necessary  to  repeat  it  here. 
In  England  the  opposition  of  the  colonists  caused  great  excite- 
ment, the  ministry  was  dissolved,  and  a  new  one  called  into  power. 
American  affairs  were  the  leading  topics  of  parliamentary  discus- 
sion. All  sorts  of  plans  were  concocted  for  coaxing,  conciliating, 
driving,  or  bullying  the  obstreperous  colonists.  The  new  minis- 
try, conscious  of  the  errors  of  its  predecessor,  brought  in  a  meas- 
ure for  the  repeal  of  the  obnoxious  act,  and,  after  a  long  and  stormy 
discussion,  carried  it;  but  it  was  too  late  to  do  any  good.  In  the 
course  of  this  struggle,  Dr.  Franklin  was  called  before  the  com- 
mittee of  the  whole  house,  to  whom  had  been  referred  the  peti- 
tions of  the  colonists,  and  other  papers  relating  to  the  controversy. 
He  was  not  unprepared  for  the  call,  and  took  good  care  to  be  well 
up  in  his  answers.  The  account  of  the  examination,  which  was 
extremely  lengthy,  and  embraced  a  great  variety  of  topics,  was 
afterward  published,  and  immediately  became  a  document  of  great 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN.  445 

parliamentary  importance.  It  gave  a  clear  and  comprehensive 
idea  of  the  state  and  condition  of  America,  and  of  the  temper  and 
feeling  which  prevailed  there  concerning  the  measure  in  question. 
The  questions  are  put  with  subtlety  and  judgment,  says  a  critic 
in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  1767,  and  they  are  answered  with 
such  4eep  and  familiar  knowledge  of  the  subject,  such  precision 
and  perspicuity,  such  temper,  and  yet  such  spirit,  as  did  honor  to 
Dr.  Franklin,  and  justified  the  general  opinion  of  his  character 
and  abilities. 

After  the  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act,  Franklin  recruited  his  health 
by  taking  a  tour  in  Germany  and  France.  He  was  received  cor- 
dially wherever  he  went,  not  only  in  the  halls  of  learning,  but  in 
the  courts  of  princes.  On  his  return  to  England,  public  business 
crowded  upon  him.  In  1768  he  was  appointed  agent  for  Georgia ; 
in  1769  he  was  chosen  agent  for  New  Jersey,  and  in  1770  Massa- 
chusetts paid  him  a  similar  compliment.  His  Pennsylvania  agency 
still  continued,  and  thus,  at  the  ripe  age  of  sixty-four,  he  had  the 
agency  of  four  colonies,  in  each  of  which  circumstances  of  peculiar 
difficulty  and  embarrassment  required  the  full  exercise  of  his  wis- 
dom and  prudence.  Fresh  difficulties  were  constantly  occurring 
between  the  colonial  governors  and  the  people.  Events  were 
rapidly  ripening  for  the  coming  struggle,  and  every  arrival  fur- 
nished material  for  the  invective  of  statesmen  and  the  spleen  of 
party  presses.  Franklin's  position  in  the  British  metropolis  was 
by  no  means  enviable.  In  a  letter  to  a  friend,  he  said,  "  I  do  not 
find  I  have  gained  any  point  in  either  country,  except  that  of  ren- 
dering myself  suspected  by  my  impartiality — in  England  of  being 
too  much  an  American,  and  in  America  of  being  too  much  an 
Englishman."  The  latter  suspicion  came  to  a  sudden  death  when 
the  events  of  the  Revolutionary  war  rendered  a  decided  position 
necessary.  Indeed,  it  became  weaker  and  weaker  every  year,  and 
the  displeasure  of  the  British  government  (who  persisted  in  look- 
jng  on  Franklin  as  the  representative  man  of  America,  as  indeed 
he  was)  proportionately  increased.  In  1774  he  was  dismissed 
from  his  office  of  postmaster  general.  It  was  intended  as  a  meas- 
ure of  retaliation,  but  its  effect  was  highly  beneficial  to  Franklin's 
reputation.  "  It  relieved  him  at  once  from  his  anomalous  position 
as  the  holder  of  office  under  the  British  government,  and  removed 
the  suspicion  that  his  enemies  entertained  and  encouraged  that  he 
was  playing  a  double  part."* 

*  Weld's  Life  of  Franklin. 


446  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

During  his  sojourn  in  England  Franklin  was  overtaken  by 
a  heavy  affliction ;  he  received  intelligence  of  the  death  of  his 
wife,  to  whom  he  had  been  wedded  forty-four  years,  and  who,  in 
all  his  successes,  had  been  the  constant  object  of  his  affectionate 
pride.  The  blow  was  a  severe  one  for  Franklin,  and  contributed 
in  some  measure  to  his  additional  sojourn  in  England,  although 
the  public  duties  with  which  he  was  charged  rendered  this  to 
some  extent  necessary.  The  state  of  affairs  in  America  entirely 
engrossed  the  public  mind;  debates  in  either  House-of  Parliament 
were  of  daily  occurrence,  and  the  members  who  participated  in 
them  sought  the  assistance  of  Franklin,  whose  great  experience 
and  diplomatic  sagacity  were  of  invaluable  service  to  his  country- 
men in  tempering  the  zeal  of  their  patriotism.  The  English  min- 
isters, however,  proved  intractable,  and,  after  ten  years  of  inces- 
sant effort,  Franklin  returned  to  Philadelphia  (May,  1775),  with 
bold  and  decided  ideas  as  to  the  future  policy  of  America.  On 
the  day  after  his  arrival  the  Assembly  of  Pennsylvania  elected 
him  to  the  Continental  Congress ;  also  a  member  of  the  Com- 
mittee of  Safety.  To  the  various  duties  of  these  important  offices 
he  devoted  himself  with  earnestness,  and  throughout  the  great 
drama  of  Independence  he  was  a  principal  actor.  It  is  unneces- 
sary to  repeat  the  events  of  this  period ;  they  are  a  part  of  our 
common  history,  and  must  be  studied  separately. 

On  the  2Gth  of  September,  1776,  Franklin  was  appointed  a 
commissioner  to  join  Silas  Deane  and  Arthur  Lee,  already  in  Eu- 
rope, and  "  transact  the  business  of  the  United  States  at  the  court 
of  France."  He  arrived  in  that  country  in  December  of  the  same 
year.  The  object  of  the  mission  was  to  obtain  the  moral  and  ma- 
terial aid  of  France  for  the  struggling  republic ;  and  it  was  tri- 
umphantly gained.  Money  and  munitions  of  war  were  loaned  by 
the  French  monarch,  and  any  quantity  of  volunteers  offered  their 
services  to  fight  against  their  ancient  foe,  the  English.  In  1778, 
a  formal  treaty  of  commerce  was  signed  between  the  American 
commissioners  on  the  one  part,  and  France  on  the  other,  and  in 
March  of  the  same  year  the  commissioners  were  formally  received 
by  the  French  monarch  as  the  representatives  of  an  independent 
power.  It  is,  of  course,  unjust  to  attribute  the  entire  success  of 
this  mission  to  Franklin,  but  he,  perhaps,  more  than  any  other 
individual  member,  contributed,  by  the  popularity  and  known  rec- 
titude of  his  character,  to  its  successful  issue.  On  the  dissolu- 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN.  447 

tion  of  the  commission,  Franklin  was  appointed  minister  plen- 
ipotentiary, and  in  that  capacity  remained  in  France  to  perform 
a  great  variety  of  offices,  divided,  in  the  present  day,  among  sev- 
eral representatives.  His  industry  was  truly  marvelous,  and  equal 
to  any  emergency.  Although  far  advanced  in  years,  he  displayed 
the  liveliest  mental  activity,  throwing  himself  into  the  topics  of 
the  day,  scientific  and  political,  with  the  fervor  of  youth.  When 
the  time  arrived  for  coming  to  terms  with  Great  Britain,  he  was 
appointed  one  of  the  United  States  commissioners  to  effect  a 
treaty  of  peace  between  the  two  countries.  A  great  deal  of  del- 
icate skill  had  to  be  displayed  in  the  construction  of  this  treaty, 
for  there  were  keen  susceptibilities  on  both  sides  which  might 
easily  be  wounded.  The  calmness,  dignity,  and  wisdom  of  Frank' 
lin's  bearing  was  of  inestimable  value.  So  excellently  was  the 
preliminary  treaty  drawn  up,  that  on  the  3d  of  September,  1783, 
it  was  signed  as  the  definitive  one.  After  thus  happily  assisting 
at  the  inauguration  of  peace,  Franklin  insisted  on  returning  to 
his  own  country.  He  had  been  absent  in  France  for  nearly  nine 
years,  and  felt  that  he  could  no  longer  resist  the  encroachments 
of  age.  On  the  27th  of  July,  1785,  he  set  sail  from  London,  and 
on  the  14th  of  September  he  arrived  once  more  in  Philadelphia, 
where  he  was  received  with  every  demonstration  of  popular  love 
and  respect.  It  was  difficult  for  a  man  of  Franklin's  eminence  t% 
obtain  the  repose  of  private  life.  So  long  had  he  been  accustom- 
ed to  bear  the  weight  of  public  duties,  that  he  could  not  throw 
off  the  load  without  injury  to  himself.  The  remaining  years  of 
his  life  were  destined  to  be  passed  in  the  public  service  and  in 
the  pursuit  of  scientific  subjects.  He  was  chosen  (1787)  a  dele- 
gate to  the  Convention  for  adopting  a  Constitution  for  the  United 
States,  and  was  a  working  member  of  that  body.  During  the 
last  years  of  his  life  he  continued  to  wield  his  pen  with  the  forqe 
and  clearness  of  youth,  and  never  missed  an  opportunity  of  prov- 
ing that  he  was  yet  hale  and  hearty  in  mind,  if  weak  and  feeble 
in  body. 

Dr.  Franklin  suffered  severely  from  gout,  to  which  was  added 
a  painful  calculous  disease.  The  two  became  so  distressing  and 
continuous  that  he  was  scarcely  able  to  leave*  his  bed  for  the  last 
twelve  months  of  his  life.  "  About  sixteen  days  before  his  death," 
writes  Dr.  Jones,  who  attended  the  philosopher  in  his  last  sick- 
ness, "  he  was  seized  with  a  feverish  disposition,  without  any  par- 


448  •  SELF-MADE  MEN.  ' 

ticular  symptoms  attending  it  till  the  third  or  fourth  day,  when 
he  complained  of  a  pain  in  his  left  breast,  which  increased  until 
it  became  extremely  acute,  attended  by  a  cough  and  laborious 
breathing.  During  this  state,  when  the  severity  of  his  pains  drew 
forth  a  groan  of  complaint,  he  would  observe  that  he  was  afraid 
that  he  did  not  bear  them  as  he  ought ;  acknowledging  his  grate- 
ful sense  of  the  many  blessings  he  had  received  from  the  Supreme 
Being,  who  had  raised  him  from  small  and  low  beginnings  to  such 
high  rank  and  consideration  among  men,  and  made  no  doubt  but 
that  his  present  afflictions  were  kindly  intended  to  wean  him  from 
a  world  in  which  he  was  no  longer  fit  to  act  the  part  assigned 
him.  In  this  frame  of  body  and  mind  he  ^continued  until  five 
days  before  his  death,  when  the  pain  and  difficulty  of  breathing 
entirely  left  him,  and  his  family  were  flattering  themselves  with 
the  hopes  of  his  recovery ;  but  an  imposthume,  which  had  formed 
in  his  lungs,  suddenly  burst,  and  discharged  a  quantity  of  matter, 
which  he  continued  to  throw  up  while  he  had  power,  but,  as  that 
failed,  the  organs  of  respiration  became  gradually  oppressed,  a 
calm,  lethargic  state  succeeded,  and  on  the  17th  instant  (April, 
1790),  about  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  he  quietly  expired,  closing 
a  long  and  useful  life  of  eighty-four  years  and  three  months." 
The  funeral  took  place  on  the  21st  of  April,  and  his  remains 
^vere  placed,  according  to  bis  request,  at  the  side  of  those  of  his 
wife,  in  the  northwest  corner  of  Christ  Church  cemetery.  No 
monument  marks  his  resting-place,  for  he  had  by  will  prescribed 
a  plain  marble  slab.  When  a  young  man  of  twenty-three  years, 
he  penned  the  following  quaint  epitaph : 

The  Body 

of 

BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN 
«K  (Like  the  Cover  of  an  old  Book, 

Its  contents  torn  out, 
and  stripped  of  its  lettering  and  gilding) 

Lies  here,  food  for  worms. 

But  the  work  shall  not  be  lost, 

For  it  will,  as  he  believed,  appear  once  more 

In  a  new  and  more  elegant  edition, 

Revised  and  corrected 

by  — ' 

The  Author. 


OLIVEE  EVANS. 

OLIVER  EVANS,  who  has  been  called  the  Watt  of  America, 
was  born  at  Newport,  Delaware,  about  the  year  1755  or  1756. 
Plis  parents  were  respectable  farmers,  and  at  the  age  of  fourteen 
Oliver  was  placed  as  an  apprentice  to  a  wheelwright — an  excel- 
lent and  lucrative  business.  Having  received  but  the  simple  ru- 
diments of  an  education,  Oliver  was  desirous  of  improving  him- 
self, and  in  the  evenings,  when  his  regular  work  was  done,  de- 
voted himself  attentively  to  study.  His  master,  an  illiterate  man, 
observing  the  youth  engaged  in  what  he  considered  an  unprofit- 
able amusement,  endeavored  to  put  a  stop  to  it  by  denying  Ol- 
iver the  use  of  candles.  But  the  thirst  for  knowledge  is  not  so 
easily  snuffed  out.  Oliver  collected  the  shavings  he  had  made 
during  the  day,  set  them  in  a  blaze,  and  continued  his  studies 
by  their  grateful  light. 

At  this  early  period  of  his  life  young  Evans  gave  evidence  of 
the  possession  of  active  inventive  faculties.  He  endeavored  to 
find  out  a  method  of  propelling  carriages  on  common  roads  with- 
out the  aid  of  horses  or  other  animal  power.  All  that  had  been 
written  on  the  subject  he  perused  carefully,  studied  the  various 
experiments,  and  made  himself  master  of  the  subject  gener- 
ally. The  result  was  that  he  concluded  it  impracticable  with 
the  means  then  known  to  mechanics.  During  this  time,  howev- 
er, he  became  acquainted  with  the  powers  of  steam ;  he  renewed 
his  experiment,  and  with  increased  confidence  in  this  force  he  de- 
clared unhesitatingly  that  he  could  accomplish  his  object.  Of 
course,  such  a  confident  declaration,  coming  from  so  young  a  man, 
excited  the  ridicule  of  his  hearers,-and  compelled  him  to  abandon 
his  scheme  until  a  later  day,  when  more  age,  if  not  more  wisdom, 
would  give  weight  and  importance  to  his  opinion. 

Evans's  ingenuity  and  aptness  •  carried  him  much  beyond  the 
limits  of  his  trade.  When  he  was  twenty-three  or  twenty-four 
years  of  age  he  was  engaged  in  making  card  teeth  by  hand,  that 
being  the  only  way  then  known.  Finding  this  process  "too  slow, 
he  set  his  wits  to  work  and  contrived  a  machine  that  would  man- 


450  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ufacture  three  thousand  a  minute,  and  perform  the  work  with 
much  more  satisfaction  and  completeness  than  by  hand.  He  was 
cheated  out  of  his  right  to  the  profit  of  this  invention.  It  was 
the  usual  fate  of  an  inventor. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-five  Mr.  Evans  married,  and  soon  after 
entered  into  business  with  his  brothers,  who  were  millers.  Here 
was  a  proper  field  for  the  exercise  of  his  ingenuity,  and  he  culti- 
vated it  in  a*way  that  has  placed  the  milling  fraternity  under 
perpetual  obligations  to  him.  The  improvements  and  inventions 
he  applied  were  the  elevator,  the  conveyor,  the  hopper-boy,  the 
drill,  and  the  descender,  which  five  machines  are  variously  applied 
in  different  mills  according  to  their  construction,  so  as  to  perform 
every  necessary  movement  of  the  grain  and  meal  from  one  part 
of  the  mill  to  the  other,  or  from  one  machine  to  another,  through 
all  the  various  operations,  from  the  time  the  grain  is  supplied  from 
the  farmer's  wagon  until  it  is  converted  into  flour,  ready  for  send- 
ing to  all  parts  of  the  world.  These  improvements  were  labor- 
saving,  and  important  in  every  respect.  They  required  much  time 
to  perfect,  and  were,  of  course,  received  with  opposition  from  in- 
terested sources.  It  was  extremely  difficult  to  introduce  them. 
Mr.  Evans  dispatched  his  brother  through  the  States  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, Delaware,  Maryland,  and  Virginia,  to  offer  his  inventions 
gratis  to  the  first  in  each  county  who  would  adopt  them.  Not- 
withstanding this  remarkable  inducement,  he  returned  wholly 
unsuccessful,  and  without  any  favorable  prospects  for  the  future. 
The  Brandywine  millers,  in  particular,  were  especially  hostile, 
and  it  was  only  after  several  mills  had  adopted  the  improvements 
that  they  held  a  consultation  to  inquire  into  its  merits.  The  re- 
sult of  this  meeting  was  conveyed  to  Mr.  Evans  in  the  following 
language — at  least  so  Mr.  Howe  says,  in  his  biographical  sketch : 
"  Oliver,  we  have  had  a  meeting,  and  agreed  that,  if  thou  would 
furnish  all  the  materials,  and  thy  own  boarding,  and  come  thyself 
to  set  up  the  machinery  in  onfe  of  our  mills,  thee  may  come  and 
try,  and,  if  it  answers  a  valuable  "purpose,  we  will  pay  thy  bill ; 
but  if  it  does  not  answer,  thee  must  take  it  all  out  again,  and 
leave  the  mill  just  as  thee  finds  it,  at  thy  own  expense."  Those 
Brandywine  millers  were  very  obstinate  and  very  blind  up  to  the 
last  moment,  and  gave  no  end  of  trouble  to  poor  Evans,  for  they 
had  the  reputation  of  being  excellent  in  their  business,  and  hund- 
reds of  others  were  influenced  by  their  decision.  They  were  the 


OLIVER  EVANS.  451 

last  to  adopt  the  improvements,  and  paid  the  penalty  of  their 
tardiness  by  losing  much  of  their  pre-eminence. 

Mr.  Evans  was  successful  in  obtaining  patents  for  his  inven- 
tions, among  which  was  a  steam-carriage  to  run  on  common  roads, 
but  the  latter  was  considered  so  visionary  that  he  was  unable  to 
obtain  a  capitalist  to  join  him  in  the  speculation.  In  1800  or 
1801,  Mr.  Evans  determined  to  construct  a  steam-carriage  at  his 
own  expense.  He  set  about  doing  so,  and  had  to  make  many 
modifications  and  new  appliances  in  the  steam-engine  necessary 
for  this  purpose.  The  result  was  an  engine  of  a  new  construction, 
useful  not  only  for  this,  but  for  other  purposes.  Struck  with  this 
circumstance,  he  conceived  the  possibility  of  obtaining  a  patent, 
and  forthwith  laid  aside  his  carriage  to  perfect  the  engine.  He 
constructed  a  model  on  a  large  scale,  and  expended  every  sixpence 
he  possessed  in  bringing  it  to  perfection.  At  the  age  of  forty-eight 
he  found  himself  without  means,  with  a  large  family,  and  with 
nothing  to  fall  back  upon  but  the  model  of  a  steam-engine,  which 
few  could  understand,  and  against  which  there  was  much  preju- 
dice, even  among  scientific  men.  He  had  staked  every  thing  on 
this  last  cast.  We  will  give  the  result  in  his  own  words.  "I 
could  break  and  grind  three  hundred  bushels  of  plaster  of  Paris, 
or  twelve  tons,  in  twenty-four  hours ;  and,  to  show  its  operations 
more  fully  to  the  public,  I  applied  it  to  saw  stone,  on  the  side  of 
Market  Street,  where  the  driving  of  twelve  saws  in  heavy  frames, 
sawing  at  the  ra^  of  one  hundred  feet  of  marble  in  twelve  hours, 
made  a  great  show,  and  excited  much  attention.  I  thought  this 
was  sufficient  to  convince  the  thousands  of  spectators  of  the  utility 
of  my  discovery,  but  I  frequently  heard  them  inquire  if  the  power 
could  be  applied  to  saw  timber  as  well  as  stone,  to  grind  grain,- 
propel  boats,  etc.,  and,  though  I  answered  in  the  affirmative,  they 
still  doubted.  I  therefore  determined  to  apply  my  engine  to  all 
new  uses,  to  introduce  it  and  them  to  the  public.  This  experi- 
ment completely  tested  the  correctness  of  my  principles.  The 
power  of  my  engine  rises  in  a  geometrical  proportion,  while  the 
consumption  of  fuel  has  only  an  arithmetical  ratio,  in  such  pro- 
portion that  every  time  I  added  one  fourth  more  to  the  consump- 
tion of  the  fuel,  its  powers  were  doubled,  and  that  twice  the  quan- 
tity of  fuel  required  to  drive  one  saw  would  drive  sixteen  saws 
•  at  least ;  for  when  I  drove  two  saws,  the  consumption  was  eight 
bushels  of  coal  in  twelve  hours,  but  when  twelve  saws  were  driven 


452  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

the  consumption  was  not  more  than  ten  bushels ;  so  that,  the  more 
we  resist  the  steam,  the  greater  is  the  effect  of  the  engine.  On 
these  principles  very  light  but  powerful  engines  can  be  made,  suit- 
able for  propelling  boats  and  land-carriages,  without  the  great  en- 
cumbrance of  their  weight  as  mentioned  in  Latrobe's  demonstra- 
tion." 

In  1804  Mr.  Evans  applied  his  engine  successfully  to  the  dredg- 
ing apparatus  employed  on  the  Schuylkill,  performing  all  the  oper- 
ations that  weje  required  of  it,  and  propelling  the  vessel  in  the 
steam-boat  fashion  of  the  present  day,  except  that  the  wheel  was 
behind.  Even  this  did  not  satisfy  the  skeptics.  They  persisted 
in  looking  on  Evans's  imperfect  machine  as  the  consummation  of 
all  that  could  be  effected  in  that  way,  and  abused  it  for  its  slow- 
ness and  weight.  The  inventor  silenced  them  by  answering  that 
he  would  make  a  carriage  propelled  by  steam,  for  a  wager  of  three 
thousand  dollars,  to  run  upon  a  level  road  against  the  swiftest 
horse  that  could  be  produced.  This  machine  Evans  named  the 
Oructor  Amphibolis,  and  Mr.  Howe .  states  that  it  was  the  first 
application  in  America  of  steam  power  to  the  propelling  of  land- 
carriages.  In  the  same  year  Mr.  Evans  made  a  proposition  to  the 
Lancaster  Turnpike  Company  to  construct  carriages  on  the  same 
principle,  but  the  company  paid  no  attention  to  his  request.  He 
was  absolutely  without  patronage  and  sympathy.  Possessing  as 
he  did  the  secret  of  the  high-pressure  principle — a  principle  of 
universal  application  in  the  present  day,  and  indispensable  on  rail- 
roads and  rapid  streams — he  was  treated  with  contempt  and  scorn 
as  an  idler  and  a  visionary.  How  far  this  was  the  case  will  be 
seen  from  the  following  quotation  from  his  writings,  which  speaks 
almost  in  the  language  of  prophecy :  "  The  time  will  come  when 
people  will  travel  in  stages  moved  by  steam-engines  from  one  city 
to  another,  almost  as  fast  as  birds  fly,  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  an 
hour.  Passing  through  the  air  with  such  velocity,  changing  the 
scene  in  such  rapid  succession,  will  be  the  most  exhilarating 
exercise.  A  carriage  (steam)  will  set  out  from  Washington  in 
the  morning,  the  passengers  will  breakfast  at  Baltimore,  dine  at 
Philadelphia,  and  sup  in  New  York  the  same  day.  To  accom- 
plish this,  two  sets  of  rail-ways  will  be  laid,  so  nearly  level  as  not 
in  any  way  to  deviate  more  than  two  degrees  from  a  horizontal 
line,  made  of  wood  or  iron,  or  smooth  paths  of  broken  stone  or 
gravel,  with  a  rail  to  guide  the  carriages,  so  that  they  may  pass 


OLIVER  EVANS.  453 

each  other  in  different  directions,  and  travel  by  night  as  well  as  • 
by  day.     Engines  will  drive  boats  ten  or  twelve  miles  per  hour, 
and  there  will  be  many  hundred  steam-boats  running  on  the  Mis- 
sissippi." 

Upward  of  thirteen  years  were  required  to  introduce  his  mill 
inventions  and  improvements,  and  the  expenses  were  so  great 
that  the  fees  received  from  the  licenses  were  barely  sufficient  to 
cover  them.  But  even  this  was  too  much  for  unfortunate  Mr. 
Evans.  When  the  advantages  of  his  system  became  more  fully 
recognized,  the  inducements  to  cheat  were  augmented.  He  ap- 
pealed to  the  United  States  Circuit  Court  of  Pennsylvania,  but, 
through  some  informality  in  the  patent,  the  decision  was  against 
him,  and  his  mean  enemies  were  at  liberty  for  a  time  to  rob  him. 
In  1808,  however,  he  petitioned  Congress  for  a  new  patent,  and 
was  successful  in  obtaining  it,  and  even  in  sustaining  it  against 
the  interested  opposition  of  a  number  of  millers,  who  presented  a 
memorial  to  Congress,  saying  "  that  the  public  had  been  grossly 
deceived  in  regard  to  Evans  being  the  original  inventor  of  his 
patented  mill  machines ;  for,  so  far  from  having  invented  all,  he 
was  not  the  original'inventor  of  any  of  them." 

The  remainder  of  Evans's  life  was  spent  in  useful  devotion  to 
the  subjects  of  steam  and  mechanics.  He  succeeded  in  establish- 
ing an  iron  foundry  and  machine  shop  in  Philadelphia,  where  he 
had  ample  opportunity  for  making  experiments  and  executing  his 
plans  on  a  limited  scale.  There  is  no  doubt  that,  had  Evans  been 
favored  by  circumstances,  and  by  kindly  patronage  and  support, 
he  would  have  proved  himself  one  of  the  most  distinguished  in- 
ventors of  the  age.  His  experiments  on  .the  subject  of  steam- 
boat navigation  were  made  fifteen  or  twenty  years  before  those  of 
Fulton,  and  his  high-pressure  engine  was  ttye  parent  of  all  steam 
appliances  on  rail-road  or  river.  As  it  was,  the  world  treated 
him  with  neglect,  and  he  died  poor  and  broken-hearted,  while 
men  of  less  native  genius,  but  more  practical  temperament,  bore 
off  the  palm.  Mr.  Evans  died  on  the  21st  of  April,  1819. 


ROGER  SHERMAN. 

ROGER  SHERMAN  was  born  at  Newton,  Massachusetts,  on  the 
19th  of  April,  1721.  His  ancestors  came  from  Dedham,  England, 
about  the  year  1635,  and  settled  at  Watertown,  near  the  place  of 
his  nativity.  The  father  of  Roger  Sherman  was  a  respectable 
farmer,  but  his  circumstances  were  too  humble  to  allow  him  to 
give  his  son  much  of  an  education.  Young  Roger  enjoyed  all  the 
limited  advantages  of  the  parish  school,  and  at  an  early  age  was 
apprenticed  to  a  shoemaker,  whom  he  served  faithfully  for  five  or 
six  years,  and  continued  to  follow  the  occupation  for  many  years 
after.  From  his  youth  Roger  Sherman  was  distinguished  by  an 
eager  thirst  for  knowledge,  and  neither  the  limited  means  of  his 
school  nor  the  long  hours  of  his  daily  toil  interfered  with  his  pur- 
suit of  knowledge.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  sitting  at  his  work 
with  a  book  before  him,  devoting  to  study  every  moment  that  his 
eyes  could  leave  the  work  on  which  he  was  engaged.  In  this  way 
he  gained  a  very  commendable  acquaintance  with  general  science, 
the  system  of  logic,  geography,  mathematics,  the  general  princi- 


ROGER  SHERMAN.  455 

pies  of  history,  philosophy,  theology,  and  particularly  law  and 
politics. 

In  1741  his  father  died,  leaving  him  the  responsible  head  of  a 
large  family.  This  was  a  serious  trust,  but  Roger,  although  only 
twenty  years  of  age,  felt  the  weight  of  the  obligation,  and  dis- 
charged it  with  kindness  and  devotion.  Toward  his  mother,  who 
was  spared  to  see  her  son  eminent  and  honored,  he  manifested 
the  most  devoted  attachment. 

In  1743  Roger  Sherman  removed  to  the  town  of  New  Milford, 
where  he  commenced  business  as  a  shoemaker,  but,  as  the  spec- 
ulation did  not  promise  to  be  lucrative,  he  abandoned  it,  and 
went  into  trade  with  an  elder  brother,  who  resided  in  the  same 
place.  The  undertaking  was  successful,  and  Sherman  became  a 
man  of  mark  in  the  community.  His  knowledge  of  mathematics 
was  now  put  to  practical  use.  He  was  appointed  county  survey- 
or. In  1748  he  also  supplied  the  astronomical  calculations  for 
an  almanac  published  in  New  York  city,  and  continued  to  do  so 
for  several  subsequent  years. 

In  1749  Roger  Sherman  married,  and  this  event  gave  a  new 
direction  to  his  thoughts,  and  a  new  impetus  to  his  aims.  An 
anecdote  is  related  of  him  at  this  time.  A  neighbor  had  become 
involved  in  difficulties,  arising  out  of  the  settlement  of  a  testa- 
mentary trust.  He  needed  legal  advice,  and  stated  his  case  to 
Sherman,  who,  as  we  have  already  mentioned,  made  law  one  of 
his  numerous  studies.  Sherman  took  down  the  heads  of  the  case 
in  writing,  and  was  then  desired  to  consult  with  a  lawyer  who 
resided  in  a  neighboring  town.  He  did  so,  and,  while  conversing 
with  this  gentleman,  made  frequent  reference  to  his  memorandum. 
As  it  was  necessary  to  make  an  application,  by  way  of  petition, 
to  the  proper  tribunal,  the  lawyer  desired  that  Sherman's  minutes 
might  be  left  with  him.  Sherman  reluctantly  consented,  telling 
him  that  they  were  merely  jotted  down  for  his  own  use.  The 
lawyer  read  the  document  with  sui'prise.  He  perceived  that, 
with  the  addition  of  a  few  technicalities,  it  was  equal  to  any  pe- 
tition which  he  himself  could  prepare,  and,  consequently,  that 
none  other  was  necessary.  Upon  this  the  legal  gentleman  made 
some  inquiries  concerning  Sherman's  avocations,  and  Being  told 
that  he  was  a  shoemaker  by  trade,  urged  him  to  abandon  that 
business,  and  adopt  a  profession  for  which  nature  had  evidently 
qualified  him.  The  demands  of  a  large  family  prevented  his  act- 


456  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ing  on  this  suggestion  immediately,  but  it  gave  a  direction  to  his 
future  studies,  and  paved  the  way  for  the  distinction  which  he 
afterward  obtained.  In  1754  he  was  qualified  and  admitted  'to 
the  bar.  His  practical  and  sound  judgment,  combined  with  in- 
flexible integrity,  soon  gave  him  a  pre-eminence  in  his  profession, 
and  pointed  him  out  as  a  fitting  object  for  public  trust.  In  1755 
he  was  appointed  a  justice  of  the  peace  for  New  Milford,  and  was 
also  elected  a  member  of  the  Colonial  Assembly.  Four  years 
later  he  was  appointed  judge  of  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas  for 
the  county  of  Litchfield,  and  for  two  years  discharged  the  duties 
of  that  office  with  distinguished  ability.  He  then  removed  to 
New  Haven,  where  he  acted  as  treasurer  of  Yale  College.  In 
consideration  of  his  attainments  and  studious  habits,  he  received 
from  that  learned  institution  the  honorary  degree  of  Master  of 
Arts.  In  the  following  year  (1766)  the  colony  elected  him  a 
member  of  the  Upper  House  in  the  General  Assembly  of  Con- 
necticut. As  the  members  of  the  Upper  House  held  their  meet- 
ings with  closed  doors,  we  have  no  record  of  his  career  in  that 
body ;  but  from  the  subsequent  events  of  his  life  we  may  reason- 
ably suppose  that  it  was  satisfactory.  During  the  same  year  Mr. 
Sherman  was  also  appointed  judge  of  the  Superior  Court  of  Con- 
necticut. The  first  office  he  retained  for  twenty-three  years,  the 
last  for  nineteen  years.  He  would  probably  have  held  them  much 
longer  had  not  a  law  been  passed  rendering  the  two  offices  in- 
compatible. 

We  have  briefly  recapitulated  the  offices  of  trust  bestowed  on 
Mr.  Sherman  prior  to  the  Revolution,  and  may  now  turn  to  the 
latter,  as  the  drama  in  which  Mr.  Sherman  became  one  of  the 
principal  actors,  and  with  which,  to  the  end  of  time,  his  name  will 
be  associated.  In  August,  1774,  Mr.  Sherman  was  nominated 
delegate  to  the -General  Congress  of  the  colonies.  It  was  a  pe- 
riod requiring  great  calmness,  unusual  sagacity,  and  unflinching 
patriotism ;  and  when  Roger  Sherman  took  his  seat  in  the  first 
Continental  Congress,  every  one  knew,  and  acknowledged,  that  he 
brought  these  requisites  with  him,  and  would  even  there  be  the 
glory  of  his  country.  He  soon  became  one  of  the  most  prominent 
men  in  HEe  assembly,  and  was  appointed  to  the  most  important 
committees,  among  which  was  one  to  concert  a  plan  of  military 
operations  for  the  campaign  of  1776  ;  to  prepare  and  digest  a  form 
of  confederation,  and  to  repair  to  head-quarters  at  New  York, 


ROGER  SHERMAN.  457 

and  examine  into  the  state  of  the  army.  But  what  was  more  im- 
portant than  these  was  that,  in  connection  with  Franklin,  Adams, 
Jefferson,  and  Livingston,  he  was  one  of  the  committee  appoint- 
ed to  prepare  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  This  immortal 
document,  as  is  well  known,  was  written  by  Jefferson,  and  it  is 
probable  that  Sherman's  influence  was  principally  exerted  in  car- 
rying it  through  Congress  ;  but  that  he  was  engaged  at  all  argues 
the  consideration  in  which  he  was  held.  John  Adams  says  of 
him  that  he  was  "  one  of  the  soundest  and  strongest  pillars  of 
the  Revolution."  He  was  indefatigable  in  his  labors,  and  consid- 
ered nothing  too  minute  for  his  special  attention. 

In  1784  Mr.  Sherman  was  elected  mayor  of  New  Haven,  an 
office  which  he  held  for  the  remainder  of  his  life.  Toward  the 
close  of  the  war  he  was  appointed  one  of  the  committee  to  re- 
vise the  laws  of  the  state,  and  in  1787  received  a  similar  appoint- 
ment to  form  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States.  Among  his 
manuscripts  a  paper  has  been  found,  containing  a  series  of  propo- 
sitions prepared  by  him  for  the  amendment  of  the  old  Articles  of 
Confederation,  the  greater  part  of  which  are  incorporated,  in  sub- 
stance, in  the  new  Constitution.  In  the  debates  in  that  conven- 
tion Mr.  Sherman  bore  an  important  part.  In  a  letter  to  Gen- 
eral Floyd,  he  expresses  his  opinion  of  the  Constitution.  "Per- 
haps a  better  Constitution  could  not  be  made  upon  mere  specula- 
tion. If,  upon  experience,  it  should  be  found  to  be  deficient,  it 
provides  an  easy  and  peaceable  mode  of  making  amendments ; 
but  if  the  Constitution  should  be  adopted,  and  the  several  states 
choose  some  of  their  wisest  and  best  men,  from  time  to  time,  to 
administer  the  government,  I  believe  it  will  not  want  any  amend- 
ment. I  hope  that  kind  Providence,  which  guarded  these  states 
through  a  dangerous  and  distressing  war  to  peace  and  liberty, 
will  still  watch  over  them,  and  guide  them  in  the*  way  of  safety." 

Having  exerted  all  his  power  to  secure  a  proper  form  of  gov- 
ernment, Sherman's  abilities  were  now  called  in  demand  to  secure 
its  adoption  by  his  native  state.  There  were  many  local  objec- 
tions and  prejudices  to  overthrow — objections  which,  in  some 
states,  were  nearly  fatal.  Mainly  owing  to  Sherman's  argument 
and  influence,  Connecticut  adopted  the  Constitution.  After  its 
ratification,  he  was  immediately  elected  a  representative  of  the 
state  in  Congress.  He  served  in  this  capacity  for  two  years,  and 
was  then  elected  to  the  United  States  Senate  (1791).  He  con- 

U 


458  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

tinued  in  the  full  discharge  of  his  senatorial  duties  until  death 
dragged  him  from  the  helm.  Mr.  Sherman  died  on  the  23d  of 
July,  1793,  in  the  seventy-third  year  of  his  age. 

Mr.  Sherman  was  a  man  of  strictly  religious  principles  and  in- 
stincts. He  was  a  devout  reader  of  the  Bible,  and  it  was  his  cus- 
tom to  purchase  a  copy  of  the  Scripture^  at  the  commencement 
of  every  session  of  Congress,  to  peruse  it  daily,  and  to  present  it 
to  one  of  his  children  on  his  return.  His  temperament  was  of  a 
high  moral  order,  and  healthy  as  his  physical  man.  It  was  im- 
possible to  swerve  him  from  the  line  of  conscientious  duty :  in- 
tegrity was  the  essence  of  his  thoughts,  and  penetrated  his  small- 
est action.  He  was  remarkable  for  common  sense,  and  for  tak- 
ing a  clear  view  of  perplexed  subjects  which  others  scarcely  dared 
to  handle.  "  He  was  capable  of  deep  and  long  investigation. 
While  others,  weary  of  a  short  attention  to  business,  were  relax- 
ing themselves  in  thoughtless  inattention  or  dissipation,  he  was 
employed  in  prosecuting  the  same  business,  either  by  revolving  it 
in  his  mind,  and  ripening  his  own  thought  upon  it,  or  in  confer- 
ring with  others."  It  was  in  this  way  that  Jie  accomplished  so 
much,  and  did  it  so  well.  In  person  Mr.  Sherman  was  considerably 
above  the  common  height ;  his  form  was  erect  and  well  propor- 
tioned ;  his  complexion  fair,  and  his  countenance  manly  and  agree- 
able. His  bearing  was  naturally  modest,  but,  when  matters  of 
importance  were  discussed,  he  became  unreserved,  free,  and  com- 
.inunicative. 

The  following  is  the  inscription  on  the  tablet  which  is  placed 
over  his  tomb : 

In  memory  of 

the  Hon.  ROGER  SHERMAN,  Esq., 

Mayor  of  the  City  of  New  Haven, 

and  Senator  of  the  United  States. 

He  was  born  at  Newton,  in  Massachusetts, 

April  19th,  1721,    ' 

and  died  in  New  Haven,  July  23d,  A.D.  1793, 
aged  LXXII. 

Possessed  of  a  strong,  clear,  penetrating  mind, 

and  singular  perseverance, 

he  became  the  self-taught  scholar, 

eminent  for  jurisprudence  and  policy. 

He  was  nineteen  years  an  assistant, 

and  twenty-three  years  a  judge  of  the  Superior  Court, 

in  high  reputation. 


ROGER  SHERMAN.  459 

He  was  a  delegate  in  the  first  Congress, 

signed  the  glorious  Act  of  Independence, 

and  many  years  displayed  superior  talents  and  ability 

in  the  national  Legislature. 
He  was  a  member  of  the  General  Convention, 

approved  the  Federal  Constitution, 
and  served  his  country  with  fidelity  and  honor 

in  the  House  of  Representatives, 

and  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States. 

He  was  a  man  of  approved  integrity ; 

a  cool,  discriminating  judge ; 

a  prudent,  sagacious  politician ; 

a  true,  faithful,*  and  firm  patriot. 

He  ever  adorned 
the  profession  of  Christianity 

which  he  made  in  youth ; 
and,  distinguished  through  life 

for  public  usefulness, 
died  in  the  prospect  of  a  blessed  immortality. 


EGBERT  FULTON. 

IT  seldom  happens  that  a  man  of  genius  receives  the  full  meas- 
ure of  homage  to  which  he  is  entitled.  He  is  apt  to  be  ridiculed 
as  a  visionary,  and  persecuted  as  a  plagiarist  during  his  life,  and 
forgotten  after  his  death.  These  hard  conditions  seem  to  be  the 
penalty  which  one  man  pays  for  overlapping  his  neighbor  in  in- 
tellectual greatness ;  a  sort  of  iniquitous  compensation  which  the 
rabble  insists  on  establishing.  If  there  is  one  man  more  than  an- 
other who  fortunately  can  not  complain  of  this  cruel  injustice,  it 
is  Robert  Fulton.  Every  American  must  experience  a  thrill  of 
satisfaction  in  knowing  that  the  greatest  benefactor  of  his  coun- 
try lives  also  in  its  best  recollection.  The  name  of  Fulton  is  truly 
"familiar  in  our  mouths  as  household  words."  In  every  consid- 
erable city  of  the  New  World  the  streets  are  named  after  him ; 
large  and  populous  cities  bear  his  honored  name;  across  every 
Ocean,  through  every  inlet,  away  to  the  remotest  corners  of  the 
earth,  richly-laden  vessels,  also  named  after  him,  plow  their  rapid 
way.  It  is  not  only  their  name,  but  their  present  perfection,  that 
they  owe  to  this  worthy  son  of  the  land  of  freedom.  Without 


ROBERT  FULTON.  461 

his  application  and  industry,  without  his  early  perception  and 
steady  pursuit  of  the  useful  ends  of  steam  power,  America  might 
yet  be,  to  a  great  extent,  an  impenetrable  and  unwieldy  forest. 
All  the  vast  resources  of  the  great  West,  all  the  riches  of  the 
South,  all  the  industrial  resources  of  the  North  and  East,  would 
be  limited  and  narrowed  to  circumscribed  sections  of  our  country, 
and  distributed  there*  at  greatly  enhanced  prices.  With  the  rapid 
and  convenient  transit  of  the  steam-ship,  every  variety  of  produce 
is  now  conveyed  to  the  nearest  market,  and  circulated  in  material 
wealth  to  all  corners  of  the  land.  Every  stream,  with  a  respect- 
able depth  of  water,  boasts  of  its  own  steam  navigation.  We 
have  all  heard  of  the  captain  who  had  a  boat  of  such  a  buoyant 
character  that  he  could  run  it  any  morning  after  a  heavy  dew. 
Exaggerations  are  always  based  on  some  truth,  and  even  this  gas- 
conade hints  at  a  perfection  which  really  does  exist.  For  this, 
and  for  all  that  pertains  to  the  present  advanced  state  of  steam 
navigation,  we  are  largely,  if  not  entirely,  indebted  to  Robert  Ful- 
ton. It  is  just  and  proper  that  he  should  be  held  in  high  esteem 
by  his  countrymen,  and  it  is  creditable  to  the  latter  that  they  have 
not,  like  too  many  other  nations,  allowed  the  name  of  a  great  ben- 
efactor to  sink  into  oblivion. 

Robert  Fulton  was  born  at  Little  Britain,  in  Lancaster  County, 
Pennsylvania,  in  the  year  1765.  His  parents  were  in  humble 
condition,  and  at  the  death  of  his  father,  which  occurred  when  he 
was  three  years  of  age,  he  was  left,  with  very  little  assistance,  to 
cut  for  himself  a  path  in  the  rough  world.  He  possessed  a  native 
taste  for  art,  and  could  use  his  pencil  skillfully  at  a  very  early 
age.  So  much  pleasure  did  he  derive  from  the  exercise  of  this 
talent,  that  he  became  ambitious  to  excel,  with  a  view  to  adopt- 
ing the  profession  of  a  painter.  He  made  rapid  progress,  and,  at 
the  age  of  seventeen,  proceeded  to  Philadelphia,  where  he  estab- 
lished himself  as  a  painter  of  portraits  and  landscapes.  In  a 
short  time  he  was  able  to  make  more  than  a  living;  he  could 
save,  and,  like  a  sensible,  prudent  man,  provide  for  the  emergen- 
cies of  sickness  or  other  accidents  of  life.  Before  he  was  twenty- 
one  years  of  age  he  had  accumulated  a  little  capital  sufficient  for 
the  purchase  of  a  small  farm  in  Washington  County,  Pennsylva- 
nia, in  addition  to  comforting  and  supporting  a  widowed  mother. 
It  would  be  well  if  all  young  men  of  talent  imitated  Fulton's  ex- 
ample. By  industry  and  economy  he  placed  a  solid  bar  of  com- 


462  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

fort  between  himself  and  the  exigencies  of  life,  and  to  this,  more 
than  any  thing  else,  we  owe  his  •subsequent  devotion  to  mechan- 
ics. If  he  had  simply  dallied  with  the  arts,  he  would  have  been 
a  poor  painter  all  his  life ;  but  he  seized  them  with  a  vigorous 
hand,  and  moulded  them  to  his  purpose.  When  this  was  accom- 
plished he  breathed  more  freely,  and  began  to  yearn  for  greater 
perfection,  and  for  communion  with  men  who  made  art  what  it 
was — a  noble,  soul-inspiring  vocation.  At  this  time  the  great 
American  painter,  Benjamin  West,  was  the  ruling  spirit  of  the 
art  world,  the  centre  around  which  all  that  was  great  and  com- 
manding in  wealth  and  intellect  revolved.  He  was  the  pet  of 
the  English  aristocracy,  and  the  Jupiter  of  the  fraternity  of  En- 
glish painters.  Now  that  he  was  at  ease,  Fulton  determined  on 
making  a  pilgrimage  to  the  temple  of  this  art  god.  He  was 
warmly  welcomed  by  his  countryman,  and  invited  to  become  an 
inmate  of  his  house.  Such  a  cordial  invitation  was  of  inestima- 
ble value  to  the  young  artist,  and  he  became  not  only  the  guest, 
but  the  pupil  of  the  great  master. 

For  several  years  Fulton  pursued  his  studies  with  devotion  and 
success.  He  made  many  valuable  acquaintances,  and,  being  a 
man  of  considerable  information  on  mechanical  subjects  (for  which 
he  always  had  a  strong  regard),  he  drew  around  him  the  sympa- 
thies of  a  large  number  of  distinguished  amateurs,  among  whom 
may  be  numbered  the  Duke  of  Bridgewater  and  the  Earl  of  Stan- 
hope. The  first-named  nobleman  was  the  first  to  introduce  a  per- 
fect system  of  canal  navigation  into  the  United  Kingdom,  and,  at 
the  time  Fulton  made  his  acquaintance,  was  largely  interested  in 
similar  important  enterprises  all  over  the  country.  Fulton  had 
devoted  some  attention  to  the  subject  of  canals,  and  was  prepared 
to  give  well-digested  opinions  concerning  the  merits  of  the  vari- 
ous systems  then  in  agitation.  The  Duke  of  Bridgewater  was  so 
well  pleased  with  his  aptness  in  these  respects,  that  he  cordial- 
ly recommended  him  to  abandon  the  profession  of  painter,  and 
take  to  that  of  civil  engineer.  Fulton  acted  on  tins  advice,  and 
shortly  afterward  we  find  him  residing  in  Birmingham — the  cen- 
tral workshop  of  England — engaged  in  the  construction  of  those 
numerous  canals  which  have  since  added  so  much  to  the  extent 
and  importance  of  that  town. 

Earl  Stanhope  was  a  man  with  a  decided  genius  for  mechanics. 
He  devoted  his  time  and  his  fortune  to  the  prosecution  of  various 


ROBERT  FULTON.  463 

experiments  in  connection  with  the  newly-discovered  powers  of 
the-  steam-engine.  One  of  his  projects  was  to  propel  a  vessel 
through  the  water  with  gigantic  ducks'  feet  worked  by  machinery. 
He  mentioned  this  plan  to  Fulton,  but  the  latter  objected  to  its 
practicability,  and  suggested  other  means  whereby  the  desired  ob- 
ject might  be  obtained,  he  thought,  in  a  more  easy  and  economi- 
cal way.  Earl  Stanhope  continued  his  experiments,  and  soon 
found  that  Fulton's  objections  were  valid  and  fatal.  A  few  years 
later  Fulton  applied  the  suggestions  he  had  proffered  to  the  noble- 
man, and  succeeded  in  propelling  satisfactorily  the  first  steam-ves- 
sel that  ever  pressed  its  way  through  the  waters. 

Fulton  threw  himself  into  the  subject  of  canal  navigation  with 
great  enthusiasm ;  wrote  a  book  concerning  it,  and  took  out  a 
patent  for  some  improvements  which  he  conceived  belonged  to 
him,  but  which,  in  the  end,  turned  out  to  be  of  no  practical  use. 
He  made  the  acquaintance  of  Watt,  and  neglected  no  opportunity 
of  improving  himself  in  practical  mechanics  and  machinery.  Aft- 
er remaining  for  some  time  in  Birmingham,  he  determined  on  vis- 
iting France.  One  of  his  reasons  for  this  step  was  a  desire  to 
enter  into  negotiations  with  the  French  government  for  the  sale 
of  a  marine  missile,  called  a  torpedo,  which  Fulton  asserted  would 
destroy  the  navy  of  an  enemy  with  the  greatest  possible  ease  and 
expedition.  Experiments  were  made  in  the  Seine,  but  with  little 
success.  The  French  government  declined  to  have  any  thing  to 
do  with  Mr.  Torpedo.  Fulton  then  offered  his  invention  to  the 
English  government,  and  afterward  to  the  government  of  his  own 
country.  Extensive  experiments  were  made,  but  the  invention 
was  again  found  wanting,  and  after  a  while  died  a  natural  death. 
It  is  fortunate  for  the  world,  perhaps,  that  it  did.  If  it  were 
capable  of  doing  what  Fulton  said  it  would,  he  was  criminally 
wrong  in  offering  it  to  any  other  government  than  his  own.  Such 
an  instrument  of  warfare  should  only  be  placed  in  the  most  right- 
eous hands,  and  where  it  is  likely  to  be  used  on  the  side  of  truth, 
justice,  and  human  progress.  Fulton's  conduct  in  the  matter 
shows  that  he  had  no  moral  sentiment  on  the  subject,  but  merely 
looked  out  for  the  best  market. 

The  Scriptures  teach  us  that  out  of  evil  cometh  good.  It  is 
probable  that  Fulton's  efforts  in  the  torpedo  line  greatly  improved 
his  mechanical  dexterity,  and,  by  bringing  him  in  contact  with 
water  craft,  directed  his  attention  once  more  to  the  subject  of  ma- 


464  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

rine  locomotion.  Many  attempts  were  being  made  in  all  coun- 
tries to  invent  a  vessel  which,  with  the  aid  of  steam,  should  defy 
the  winds  and  the  tides,  and  move  wherever  the  hand  of  man 
chose  to  direct  it.  Until  Mr.  Watt  had  invented  his  double-action 
condensing  engine,  there  seemed  no  possibility  of  effecting  this 
desirable  object ;  but  when  that  great  improvement  was  intro- 
duced, it  became  apparent  to  Fulton  that  the  moment  had  ar- 
rived for  victoriously  snatching  the  laurels  from  various  competi- 
tors. There  is  now  no  doubt  that  he  did  so  openly  and  fairly, 
although  it  has  been  the  custom  to  assert  that  he  stole  some  of 
them,  at  least,  from  other  men,  particularly  Fitch  and  Rumsey. 
We  Have  no  space  to  devote  to  controversy,  nor  is  it  profitable  to 
open  up  a  question  satisfactorily  settled  by  eminent  and  conscien- 
tious authorities.  All  that  Fulton  claimed  they  have  conceded 
to  him.  Others  may  have  gone  in  the  same  direction  that  he 
did,  and  aimed  for  the  same  goal,  but  they  did  not  take  the  same 
path,  and  consequently  he  got  there  first. 

The  improvement  Fulton  suggested  to  Earl  Stanhope  was  sim- 
ply to  substitute  a  water-wheel  for  the  propelling  power  instead 
of  an  imitation  webbed  foot.  Experience  soon  proved  the  latter 
to  be  of  no  use,  and  Fulton  was  therefore  additionally  anxious  to 
test  the  merits  of  his  own  scheme.  He  was  fortunate  in  getting 
a  partner  who  not  only  thoroughly  understood  the  subject,  but 
who  unhesitatingly  expressed  his  confidence  in  the  success  of  the 
undertaking.  The  first  experiments  were  made  in  France,  where 
Mr.  Fulton  and  Mr.  Livingston  were  then  living.  They  were 
measurably  successful,  and  arrangements  were  entered  into  for 
the  prosecution  of  the  scheme  in  America.  An  application  was 
at  once  made  to  the  Legislature  of  the  State  of  New  York  for  the 
exclusive  privilege  of  navigating  its  waters  by  steam.  It  was  con- 
sidered so  impracticable  that  there  was  no  opposition  to  the  grant, 
the  only  condition  being  that  a  vessel  should  be  propelled  at  the 
rate  of  four  miles  an  hour  within  a  certain  prescribed  period.  The 
engines  for  Fulton's  first  boat  were  ordered  from  England,  and 
arrived  in  America  in  1806.  The  vessel  was  entirely  finished  in 
August,  1807,  and  a  trial  trip  was  immediately  announced,  in- 
vitations being  sent  to  all  the  leading  scientific,  literary,  and  po- 
litical men  of  the  city.  A  more  critical  assemblage  could  scarce- 
ly be  gathered  together,  or  one  more  keenly  disposed  to  ridicule 
failure.  Many  expressed  a  decided  opinion  that  the  whole  affair 
was  a  mere  catchpenny  humbug ;  others  shook  their  heads,  as 


ROBERT  FULTON.  465 

if  they  knew  perfectly  well  what  could  be  done  in  the  way  of 
steam  navigation,  and  were  certain  that  Fulton's  was  not  the 
plan.  All  were  unanimous  on  one  point — that  it  was  worse  than 
throwing  money  away  to  speculate  in  such  a  wild  and  thriftless 
undertaking.  When,  however,  the  unshapely  vessel  was  observed 
to  move  silently  from  her  dock  on  the  Jersey  shore,  and  cleave 
her  course  through  the  foaming  stream,  the  doubters  began  to  have 
doubts  about  their  doubts  ;  the  skeptics,  to  be  skeptical  of  their 
skepticism ;  the  lukewarm  boiled  over  with  excitement,  and  the 
indifferent  became  enthusiastic.  The  first  turn  of  the  big  wheels 
effected  a  double  revolution,  in  the  water  and  in  men's  minds. 
Cries  of  acclamation  arose  from  either  shore,  and  the  first  steam- 
ship in  the  world — the  Clermont — moved  like  a  mighty  conqueror 
amid  shouts  of  wonder  and  admiration. 

In  a  few  days  the  Cleitnont  started  on  her  first  long  trip.  This 
was  to  Albany,  and  concerning  it  Mr.  Fulton  wrote  as  follows : 
"My  steam-boat  voyage  to  Albany  and  back  has  turned  out  rather 
more  favorable  than  I  had  calculated.  The  distance  from  New 
York  to  Albany  is  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles ;  I  ran  it  up  in 
thirty-two  hours,  and  down  in  thirty.  I  had  a  light  breeze  against 
me  the  whole  way,  both  going  and  coming,  and  the  voyage  has 
been  performed  wholly  by  the  power  of  the  steam-engine.  I  over- 
took many  sloops  and  schooners  beating  to  windward,  and  parted 
with  them  as  if  they  had  been  at  anchor.  The  power  of  propel- 
ling boats  by  steam  is  now  fully  proved.  The  morning  I  left  New 
York  there  were  not,  perhaps,  thirty  persons  in  the  city  who  be- 
lieved that  the  boat  would  ever  move  one  mile  an  hour,  or  be  of 
the  least  utility ;  and  while  we  were  putting  off  from  the  wharf, 
which  was  crowded  with  spectators,  I  heard  a  number  of  sarcastic 
remarks.  This  is  the  way  in  which  ignorant  men  compliment 
what  they  call  philosophers  and  projectors.  Having  employed 
much  time,  money,  and  zeal  in  accomplishing  this  work,  it  gives 
me,  as  it  will  you,  great  pleasure  to  see  it  fully  answer  my  expecta- 
tions. It  will  give  a  cheap  and  quick  conveyance  to  the  merchan- 
dise on  the  Mississippi,  Missouri,  and  other  great  rivers,  which  are 
now  laying  open  their  treasures  to  the  enterprise  of  our  country- 
men ;  and  although  the  prospect  of  personal  emolument  has  been 
some  inducement  to  me,  yet  I  feel  infinitely  more  pleasure  in  re- 
flecting on  the  immense  advantage  that  my  country  will  derive 
from  the  invention."  • 

U2 


466  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

The  navigation  of  the  Hudson  by  steam  was  now  accepted  as  a 
fact,  and  the  Clermont  was  regarded  as  such  a  public  convenience 
that  regular  voyages  were  insisted  on,  and  passengers  at  both  ends 
were  eager  for  the  opportunity  to  travel  in  her.  Fulton  kept  a 
sharp  look-out  for  defects  in  the  machinery,  and  never  went  a 
voyage  without  making  extensive  observations.  In  the  winter 
the  Clennont  was  remodeled  and  repaired ;  guards  and  housings 
for  the  wheels  were  added,  and  many  other  improvements,  which 
tended  largely  to  the  comfort  and  expedition  of  the  trip.  Un- 
fortunately, however,  Mr.  Livingston  insisted  on  trying  his  hand 
at  an  invention,  and  popped  into  the  boat  a  boiler  which  was, 
no  doubt,  very  pretty  in  a  theoretical  point  of  view,  but  which, 
as  Fulton  predicted,  turned  out  practically  a  complete  fnilmv. 
The  Clermont  lost  popularity  for  a  short  time  in  consequence  of 
this,  but  Fulton  came  to  the  rescue  with  a  boiler  of  unquestion- 
able capacity,  and  all  went  well  again.  A  regular  and  rapidly- 
increasing  intercourse  was  thus  established  by  Fulton  between 
Albany  and  New  York.  It  became  apparent  that  more  boats 
would  be  needed,  and  that  an  amount  of  business  far  exceeding 
his  expectations  would  shortly  press  on  his  hands.  Nor  was  he 
withouj  opposition.  The  skippers  of  the  river  entered  into  com- 
binations against  him,  and  some  speculators  started  a  rival  boat, 
which  was  to  be  moved  by  a  pendulum,  but  which,  in  the  long  run, 
had  to  be  moved  by  steam  and  paddle-wheefe  exactly  in  the  same 
way  as  Fulton's.  As  this  was  clearly  an  infringement  of  Living- 
ston and  Fulton's  rights,  they  applied  to  the  Court  of  Chancery  for 
an  injunction,  which,  however,  was  refused.  On  an  appeal  to  the 
Court  of  Errors  this  decision  of  the  chancellor  was  reversed,  and 
the  water  privileges  of  the  State  of  New  York  remained  in  the 
exclusive  possession  of  Fulton  and  his  associate.  Several  new 
boats  were  added  to  the  line,  and  Fulton,  although  the  possessor 
of  large  and  valuable  interests,  found  himself  short  of  money  by 
the  incessant  disbursements  occasioned  by  the  rapidly-increasing 
business  of  the  line. 

In  the  spring  of  1808  Fulton  crowned  his  triumphs  with  the 
happy  wreath  of  matrimony.  He  was  fortunate  in  the.  selection 
of  an  amiable  and  accomplished  spouse,  the  niece  of  his  friend 
Livingston.  In  her  society  ever  afterward  he  enjoyed  the  calm 
tranquillity  and  happiness  which  the  married  state  can  alone  af- 
ford. This  wise  step  appears  almost  to  have  been  indicated  by  a 


KOBERT  FULTON.  467 

beneficent  Providence,  for  immediately  after  his  marriage  he  was 
assailed  by  all  sorts  of  worldly  troubles.  People,  when  they  found 
that  steam  navigation  was  no  longer  the  idle  vision  of  a  dreamer, 
but  a  substantial  fact,  began  to  overlook  the  claims  of  the  man 
who  introduced  it.  They  fulminated  against  the  monopoly  enjoy- 
ed by  Fulton ;  grumbled  at  the  accommodations  afforded  by  his 
boats ;  complained  that  the  fares  were  exorbitant ;  and,  finally, 
maintained  that  Fulton  was  not  entitled  to  exclusive  privileges, 
because  he  was  not  the  inventor  of  the  system.  The  latter  was, 
of  course,  jealous  of  his  rights,  and  endeavored  to  protect  them  to 
the  best  of  his  ability.  He  came  in  contact  with  the  State  of  New 
Jersey,  the  government  of  which  had  granted  exclusive  privileges 
to  Fitch.  The  ferry  communication  was  stopped,  and  more  un- 
popularity was  heaped  upon  our  hero.  In  these  days  monopolies 
are  looked  on  with  proper  distrust,  and  perhaps  the  people  were 
not  altogether  wrong  even  then  for  complaining  that  the  public 
interests  were  mortgaged  to  private  individuals.  But  it  must  be 
remembered  that  the  patent  laws  were  in  a  very  imperfect  state, 
and  that  the  only  chance  an  inventor  had  of  remunerating  him- 
self was  by  securing  extensive  state  monopolies.  No  doubt  there 
was  a  great  deal  to  be  said  on  both  sides.  If  Fitch's  invention 
had  been  less  known,  Fulton  would  perhaps  have  received  more 
sympathy.  But  the  long  and  valuable  labors  of  that  ingenious 
man  undoubtedly  gave  him  a  claim  on  the  public  regard,  and 
people  thought  that  if  any  one  was  entitled  to  a  monopoly,  it  was 
he,  and  not  Fulton.  The  state  settled  the  difficulty  some  time 
afterward  by  declaring  the  monopoly  unconstitutional. 

Fulton's  partner  endeavored  to  get  a  revision  or  reversal  of 
the  Jersey  law,  and  when  the  day  came  on  for  trying  the  matter 
(January,  1815),  the  subject  of  this  memoir  appeared  as  a  witness. 
The  weather  was  severe,  and  the  Hudson  became  unnavigable  for 
steam-boats.  Anxious  to  return  to  his  family,  Fulton  exposed 
himself  to  the  bitter  blasts  in  a  row-boat,  which  conveyed  him  to 
New  York.  Immediately  on  his  return  he  was  seized  with  a  vio- 
lent fit  of  illness.  From  this  he  partly  recovered,  but  again  com- 
mitted an  act  of  indiscretion  by  exposing  himself  at  the  Brook- 
lyn Navy-yard.  A  relapse  was  the  consequence.  He  became 
gradually  worse,  and  Irs  shattered  system  held  out  no  hopes  of 
recovery.  His  death  shortly  followed,  on  the  24th  of  February, 
1815.. 


468  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

This  calamity  occasioned  a  sudden  revulsion  of  public  feeling. 
All  petty  oppositions  and  jealousies  were  forgotten,  and  the  high- 
est to  the  lowest  in  the  land  alike  vied  in  paying  tribute  to  the 
memory  of  a  man  who  had  at  least  shed  lustre  on  the  country  of 
his  birth. 

Fulton  was  rather  above  the  middle  height ;  intelligent  in  coun- 
tenance and  conversation  ;  attached  to  the  home  circle,  in  which 
he  was  pre-eminently  fitted  to  shine ;  familiar  with  all  the  topics 
of  the  day ;  well  bred  and  easy  in  his  intercourse  with  friends, 
and  polite,  affable,  and  kindly  to  all.  He  never  entirely  aban- 
doned the  fine  arts.  Only  a  short  time  before  his  death  he  exe- 
cuted oil  paintings  of  his  family,  and  was  pleased  with  the  dex- 
terity he  still  preserved.  In  closing  this  memoir,  we  can  not  do 
better  than  quote  the  just  and  dispassionate  remarks  of  Dr.  Ren- 
wick  :  "  If  we  consider  Fulton  as  an  inventor,  it  may  be  difficult 
to  say  in  what  exact  particular  bis  merits  consist.  As  the  blow 
of  the  mallet,  by  which  the  mighty  mass  of  a  ship  of  the  line  is 
caused  to  start  upon  its  ways,  in  the  act  of  launching,  is  undis- 
tinguishable  among  the  numerous  strokes  by  which  that  mass  is 
gradually  raised,  so  the  minute  particulars  in  which  his  labors 
differ  from  former  abortive  attempts  may  almost  escape  research  ; 
but  if  we  contemplate  him  in  the  light  of  a  civil  engineer,  con- 
fidently building  a  finished  and  solid  structure  upon  the  incom- 
plete foundation  left  by  others,  we  must  rank  him  among  the  first 
of  his  age,  and  place  him,  in  the  extent  of  his  usefulness  to  man- 
kind, as  second  to  Watt  alone." 


SIE  WILLIAM  JONES. 

THIS  extraordinary  linguist  and  Oriental  scholar  was  born  in 
London  in  the  year  1746.  When  only  three  years  of  age  he  had  the 
misfortune  to  lose  his  father,  a  distinguished  mathematician  and 
scholar,  and  was  left  entirely  to  the  guidance  of  a  fond  mother. 
Being  a  woman  of  strong  mind,  she  determined  that  her  son  should 
have  a  good  education,  and  devoted  all  her  time,  energies,  and 
means  to  the  accomplishment  of  this  object.  The  boy  early  dis- 
played an  acuteness  uncommon  in  one  of  his  age  ;  and  to  his  ques- 
tionings the  mother  invariably  replied,  Read,  and  you  will  know. 
To  this  admonition  the  great  scholar  admitted  that  he  was  mainly 
indebted  for  his  subsequent  attainments.  When  only  seven  years 
of  age  young  William  was  placed  at  the  celebrated  school  at  Har- 
row, being  accompanied  there  by  his  mother,  who  took  a  small 
place  in  the  village  in  order  that  she  might  minister  to  his  wants, 
and  direct  his  mind  as  far  as  lay  in  her  power.  Under  the  rou- 
tine of  the  school  his  precocity  disappeared,  and  for  two  years  he 
was  more  remarkable  for  diligence  than  quickness.  In  his  ninth 
year  he  met  with  an  accident  by  which  his  thigh  bone  was  broken. 


470  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

He  was  unable  to  attend  school  for  a  year,  but  his  mother  availed 
herself  of  the  opportunity  to  initiate  him  into  the  glorious  field  of 
English  literature,  and  he  became  acquainted  with  some  of  the 
best  poets.  On  returning  to  school  he  was  put  into  the  same 
class  which  he  had  left,  but  found,  to  his  dismay,  that  he  was  far 
behind  his  old  classmates.  What  contributed  to  his  pain,  even 
more  than  this  knowledge,  was  the  fact  that  even  the  master  mis- 
took his  necessary  retrogression  for  dullness  or  laziness,  and  threat- 
ened to  punish  him,  the  ferrule  being  considered  an  excellent  stim- 
ulant to  mental  activity  in  those  days.  The  threat  had  no  effect 
on  poor  young  Jones ;  but  his  pride  was  touched,  and  he  made  up 
his  mind  that  he  would  overtake  his  classmates.  By  hard  study, 
he  accomplished  his  purpose  and  took  his  place  at  the  head  of  the 
class,  gained  the  prize  offered  in  every  department,  and  carried 
his  proficiency  much  beyond  what  was  required  of  boys  in  his 
form.  In  his  twelfth  year  he  entered  the  upper  school,  and  soon 
after  astonished  teacher,  scholars,  and  every  body  else  by  a  re- 
markable display  of  memory.  Theatrical  representations  took 
place  among  the  scholars,  and  on  one  occasion  it  was  determined 
to  give  Shakespeare's  "  Tempest."  Unfortunately,  there  was  not  a 
copy  to  be  had.  To  supply  the  deficiency,  young  Jones  wrote  it 
out  from  memory  with  sufficient  correctness  to  enable  the  boys  to 
act  it  with  pleasure  to  themselves.  About  the  same  time  he  be- 
gan the  atudy  of  Greek,  and  prosecuted  his  Latin  •with  more  zeal 
than  ever.  He  conquered  many  of  the  difficulties  of  Latin  pros- 
ody before  his  teachers  and  schoolmates  were  aware  that  he  had 
thought  of  the  subject,  and  so  with  many  other  subjects.  During 
the  vacation  he  found  time  to  perfect  himself  in  French,  and  to 
study  Italian  and  arithmetic.  He  also  learned  something  of  Ara- 
bic, and  enough  of  Hebrew  to  enable  him  to  read  some  of  the 
Psalms  in  the  original.  He  was  now  in  his  thirteenth  year,  and 
his  inclination  to  study  at  this  period  was  so  earnest  that  it  was 
thought  proper  to  check  it,  lest  it  might  injure  his  health.  His 
attendance  at  school  was  therefore  interdicted,  and  for  a  time  he 
was  prohibited  all  kind  of  study. 

At  the  age  of  seventeen  it  was  decided  that  he  should  go  to 
one  of  the  Universities,  and  in  the  spring  of  1764  he  was  entered 
for  University  College,  Oxford.  It  is  characteristic  of  his  ele- 
vated temperament  that  he  was  disappointed  with  the  course  of 
instruction  provided  here.  He  was  astonished  to  find  that  he 


SIR  WILLIAM  JONES.  471 

could  not  receive  the  assistance  he  anticipated,  and  that  the  pro- 
fessors and  tutors  were  not  prepared  for  giant  strides.  He  con- 
ceived very  bitter  sentiments  against  the  establishment,  unmindful 
apparently  of  the  fact  that  it  was  intended  for  the  average  capaci- 
ties of  students,  and  not  for  the  unusual  ones  of  young  men  like 
Jones.  In  later  days  he  modified  the  hasty  impression  of  his  youth. 
A  testimony  to  his  scholarship  was  soon  given  by  his  being  elected 
one  of  the  four  scholars  on  the  foundation  of  Sir  Simon  Bennett. 
His  love  for  Oriental  literature  began  to  manifest  itself,  and  he 
commenced  studying  Arabic  from  a  native  of  Aleppo  whem  he 
discovered  in  the  streets  of  London  and  transported  to  Oxford. 
From  this  individual  he  obtained  a  fluent  knowledge  of  the  vul- 
gar Arabic.  He  then  studied  Persian.  Nor  did  he,  in  the  mean 
time,  neglect  his  old  friends,  the  Greeks  and  Latins.  The  Greek 
poets  and  historians,  and  especially  the  writings  of  Plato,  he  care- 
fully perused.  With  the  Italian,  Spanish,  and  Portuguese,  he 
had  become  so  familiar  that  he  could  read  their  best  authors  with 
ease.  While  following  these  multitudinous  studies,  he  did  not 
neglect  the  requirements  of  the  body.  He  knew  that  a  healthy 
mind  could  only  be  secured  by  a  healthy  body,  and  never  neglect- 
ed to  take  a  systematic  course  of  exercise  in  connection  with  his 
studies.  In  this  way  he  was  able  to  preserve  a  high  tone  of 
health,  and,  "  with  the  fortune  of  a  peasant,  to  give  himself  the  ed- 
ucation of  a  prince."  Without  these  precautions  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  a  feeble  constitution  to  resist  the  intense  labor 
and  application  imposed  on  it. 

In  the  summer  of  1766  he  was  unexpectedly  elected  to  a  fel- 
lowship at  Oxford.  The  appointment  was  very  acceptable  in 
many  ways.  In  the  first  place,  it  was  a  recognition  of  his  attain- 
ments, and,  in  the  second,  it  furnished  him  with  an  income,  with 
which  he  might,  if  he  felt  so  disposed,  pursue  his  studies  to  any 
extent  he  pleased,  and  remain  within  the  classic  precincts  of  the 
University  city.  He  had  felt  the  want  of  money  so  much  pre- 
vious to  this  event,  that  in  the  preceding  year  he  had  accepted 
an  invitation  to  become  the  private  tutor  of  Lord  Althorpe  (aft- 
erward Earl  Spencer).  In  the  family  of  this  nobleman  he  passed 
some  years,  and  appears  to  have  been  treated  with  kindness  and 
consideration.  In  1767  he  accompanied  his  lordship  on  a  tour 
of  the  Continent,  and  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  of  learn- 
ing German.  On  his  return  he  devoted  himself  largely  to  the 


472  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

preparation  of  his  "  Commentaries  on  Asiatic  Poetry" — a  learned 
work  which  he  had  in  progress — and  also  found  time  to  learn  the 
Chinese. 

In  1768,  the  King  of  Denmark  was  on  a  visit  to  England,  and 
brought  with  him  an  Eastern  manuscript  containing  the  life  of 
Nadir  Shah.  This  manuscript  had  puzzled  the  savans  of  the  Con- 
tinent, and  he  brought  it  to  England,  hoping  that  Jones  would 
undertake  to  translate  it  into  French.  As  might  be  expected,  Mr. 
Jones  declined  ;  but  the  king  pressed  his  request  so  earnestly  that 
he  was  afraid  of  being  misunderstood  if  he  refused  any  longer. 
He  performed  the  task,  and  in  less  than  a  year  laid  the  work  be- 
fore his  majesty — the  work  of  a  young  man  of  twenty-four  years 
of  age,  critically  exact  in  two  totally  opposite  languages. 

During  the  performance  of  this  very  laborious  undertaking, 
which,  it  is  unnecessary  to  say,  required  the  greatest  concentra- 
tion of  his  faculties,  he  was  not  unmindful  of  his  invariable  rule 
of  preserving  his  physical  health.  At  various  times,  when  he  was 
pursuing  a  study  with  more  than  ordinary  devotion,  he  took  les- 
sons in  horsemanship,  fencing,  etc.,  in  order  to  utterly  relax  his 
mind  at  certain  periods  of  the  day.  While  applying  himself  to 
the  King  of  Denmark's  serious  task,  he  found  time  to  study  mu- 
sic, a  study  which,  be  it  observed,  should  belong  more  especially 
to  literary  men,  relieving  as  it  does  the  pressure  of  severer  studies 
with  one  which  is  at  once  delicious  and  refreshing.  He  went  into 
society,  also,  and  made  the  acquaintance  of  many  eminent  men. 

During  the  summer  of  1769  he  accompanied  his  pupil  to  Har- 
row, and  left  him  there  in  charge  of  his  old  preceptors.  During 
his  temporary  stay  he  completed  a  Persian  grammar,  and  com- 
menced a  Persian  dictionary.  His  mind,  too,  became  seriously 
directed  toward  the  truths  of  Christianity,  and  he  resolved,  for 
his  own  satisfaction,  to  peruse  carefully  the  Scriptures  in  the  origv 
inal.  The  result  was  transcribed  on  the  fly-leaf  of  his  own  Bible, 
and  ran  as  follows :  "  I  have  carefully  and  regularly  perused  these 
Holy  Scriptures,  and  am  of  opinion  that  the  volume,  independ- 
ently of  its  divine  origin,  contains  more  sublimity,  purer  morality, 
more  important  history,  and  finer  strains  of  eloquence,  than  can 
be  collected  from  all  other  books,  in  whatever  language  they  may 
have  been  written." 

After  his  return  from  Harrow  he  determined  to  commence  the 
study  of  the  law,  with  the  view  of  following  it  as  a  profession. 


SIR  WILLIAM  JONES.  473 

He  did  not  ali  first  think  it  necessary  to  forsake  entirely  his  Ori- 
ental pursuits,  nor  would  it  have  been  possible  for  him  to  do  so 
in  a  moment.  Literature  (especially  that  of  Eastern  countries) 
had  become  a  part  of  his  life.  Still,  he  was  capable  of  devoting 
himself  with  great  assiduity  to  the  study  of  jurisprudence.  "I 
have  just  begun,"  he  writes,  "  to  contemplate  the  stately  edifice 
of  the  laws  of  England,  'The  gathered  wisdom  of  a  thousand 
years,'  if  you  will  allow  me  to  parody  a  line  of  Pope.  I  do  not 
see  why  the  study  of  the  law  is  called  dry  and  unpleasant ;  and  I 
very  much  suspect  that  it  seems  so  to  those  only  who  would 
think  any  study  unpleasant  which  requires  great  application  of 
the  mind  and  exertion  of  the  memory.  *  *  I  have  opened  two 
commonplace  books,  the  one  of  the  law,  the  other  of  oratory, 
which  is  surely  too  much  neglected  by  our  modern  speakers.  *  *  * 
But  I  must  lay  aside  my  studies  for  about  six  weeks,  while  I  am 
printing  my  grammar,  from  which  a  good  deal  is  expected,  and 
which  I  must  endeavor  to  make  as  perfect  as  a  human  work  can 
be.  When  that  is  finished,  I  shall  attend  the  Court  of  King's 
Bench  very  constantly." 

Honors  began  to  reward  the  industrious  scholar.  In  1772  Mr. 
Jones  was  elected  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society,  and,  two  years 
later,  published  his  Commentaries  on  Asiatic  Poetry.  They  had 
been  finished  for  some  years,  but  he  delayed  the  printing,  in  or- 
der to  submit  them  to*  the  criticism  of  scholars.  They  were  writ- 
ten in  Latin,  and  commanded  the  attention  of  savans  throughout 
the  world.  In  1778  he  published  a  translation  of  a  part  of  the 
orations  of  Isaeus.  During  all  this  period  he  pursued  the  study 
of  the  law  with  his  usual  avidity. 

In  1780  he  lost  his  mother,  a  calamity  which  fell  heavily  on 
him,  but  which  was  not  unexpected.  That  estimable  woman  had 
lived  to  see  her  proudest  hopes  realized,  and  left  the  world  with 
the  conviction  that  her  son  would  be,  if  he  was  not  already,  the 
most  distinguished  man  of  the  century.  The  event  seems  to  have 
awakened  thoughts  in  the  mind  of  Jones  which  had  heretofore 
been  crowded,  out  by  the  hurry  and  excitement  of  continual  study, 
namely,  that  there  was  a  limit  to  his  own  life.  The  apprehension 
that  he  might  die  imperfect  in  some  matters  which  afforded  him 
great  mortal  interest  nerved  him  with  new  determination.  He 
now  laid  down  a  plan  for  his  future  studies.  The  memorandum 
is  in  his  own  handwriting,  and  reads  as  follows : 


474  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

"  Resolved,  to  learn  no  more  rudiments  of  any  kind,  but  to  per- 
fect myself  in,  first,  twelve  languages,  as  the  means  of  acquiring 
accurate  knowledge  of  the 

I.  HISTORY  of,  1.  Man ;  2.  Nature. 
II.  ARTS:   1.  Rhetoric;  2.  Poetry;  3.  Painting;  4.  Music. 

III.  SCIENCES:  1.  Law;  2.  Mathematics;  3.  Dialectics. 

The  twelve  languages  are  Greek,  Latin,  Italian,  French,  Span- 
ish, Portuguese,  Hebrew,  Arabic,  Persian,  Turkish,  German,  En- 
glish. 1780." 

• 

In  March,  1783,  Mr.  Jones  was  appointed  Judge  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  ^Judicature  at  Fort  William,  in  Bengal,  and  at  the  same 
time  received  the  honor  of  knighthood.  Being  thus  rendered 
entirely  independent  in  his  means  (the  appointment  was  for  life), 
he  gratified  the  warm  ambition  of  his  manhood,  and  married  the 
beautiful  and  accomplished  daughter  of  the  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph. 
Immediately  after  the  nuptial  tour  he  embarked  for  India,  and 
bade  farewell  to  the  land  of  his  birth,  a  land  which  he  was  des- 
tined never  to  see  again.  He  was  now  in  his  thirty-seventh  year, 
full  of  health  and  strength,  and  bounding  with  hope  of  future  dis- 
tinction and  attainments.  On  the  voyage  he  amused  himself  by 
drawing  up  a  scheme  of  what  he  should  do  during  his  residency 

in  India.     The.  list  is  curious,  and  is  headed 

• 

"  Objects  of  Inquiry  during  my  residence  in  Asia: 

1.  The  Laws  of  the  Hindoos  and  Mohammedans. 

2.  The  History  of  the  Ancient  World. 

3.  Proofs  and  Illustrations  of  Scripture. 

4.  Traditions  concerning  the  Deluge,  etc. 

5.  Modern  Politics  and  Geography  of  Hindostan. 

6.  Best  mode  of  governing  Bengal. 

7.  Arithmetic   and  Geometry,  and  mixed  Sciences  of  the 

Asiatics. 

8.  Medicine,  Chemistry,  Surgery,  and  Anatomy  of  the  In- 

dians. 

9.  Natural  productions  of  India. 

10.  Poetry,  Rhetoric,  and  Morality  of  Asia. 

11.  Music  of  the  Eastern  Nations. 

12.  The  Ski-King,  or  300  Chinese  Odes. 

13.  The  best  accounts  of  Thibet  and  Cashmir. 


SIR  WILLIAM  JONES.  475 

14.  Trade,  Manufactures,  Agriculture,  and  Commerce  of  India. 

15.  Mogul  Constitution,  contained  in  the  Defteri,  Alemghiri, 

and  Agein  Acbari. 

16.  Mahratta  Constitution. 

To  print  and  publish  the  Gospel  of  St.  Luke  in  Arabic. 
To  publish  Law  Tracts  in  Persian  or  Arabic. 
To  print  and  publish  the  Psalms  of  David  in  Persian  verse. 
To  compose,  if  God  grant  me  life, 

1.  Elements  of  the  Laws  of  England. 

MODEL  :  The  Essay  on  Bailment — Aristotle. 

2.  The  History  of  the  American  War. 

MODEL  :  Thucydides  and  Polybius. 

3.  Britain  Discovered,  an  heroic  Poem  on  the  Constitution  of 

England.     Machinery.     Hindoo  Gods. 
MODEL;  Homer. 

4.  Speeches,  Political  and  Forensic. 

MODEL  :  Demosthenes. 

5.  Dialogues,  Philosophical  and  Historical. 

MODEL:  Plato. 

6.  Letters. 

MODEL  :  Demosthenes  and  Plato. 
"12th  July,  1783,  Crocodile  Frigate." 

Sir  William  Jones  reached  Calcutta  in  safety,  and  immediately 
entered  upon  the  discharge  of  his  judicial  duties.  He  was  warmly 
received  by  all  classes  of  the  community,  his  reputation  having 
preceded  him.  The  highest  expectations  w'ere  formed  of  his  ad- 
ministration, and  his  opening  charge  to  the  grand  jury  more  than 
sustained  the  good  opinion  which  prevailed.  As  soon  as  his  ju- 
dicial duties  allowed  him,  he  turned  his  attention  to  the  objects 
above  enumerated,  and  devised  a  plan  of  a  society  for  carrying  on 
researches  in  a  more  thorough  way  than  could  be  expected  from 
an  individual.  The  presidency  of  this  society  was  offered  to 
Warren  Hastings,  who  at  that  time  was  Governor  General  of 
India ;  but  that  celebrated  man  declined  the  honor,  and  Sir  Wil- 
liam Jones  was  elected  to  the  office.  He  immediately  commenced 
the  study  of  the  Sanscrit,  both  that  he  might  better  fulfill  his 
duties  as  president,  and  still  more  that  he  might  be  able  to  judge 
more  accurately  and  independently  of  the  spirit  of  Hindoo  law. 


47 6  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

While  at  Calcutta,  the  attraction  of  his  conversation  drew 
around  him  so  many  friends  that  his  hours  of  study  were  much 
encroached  upon.  He  therefore  chose  a  country  residence,  a 
few  miles  from  the  city,  where  he  might  receive  less  interruption 
and  enjoy  better  health.  The  duties  of  the  court,  however,  fre- 
quently called  him  to  town,  and  his  devotion  was  so  great  that, 
even  when  he  felt  his  health  declining,  he  refused  to  relax  in  his 
attendance.  "  How  long  my  health  will  continue  in  this  town," 
he  writes  to  a  friend,  "  with  constant  attendance  in  court  every 
morning,  and  the  irksome  business  of  justice  of  peace  in  the  after- 
noon, I  can  not  foresee.  If  temperance  and  composure  of  mind 
will  avail,  I  shall  be  well ;  but  I  would  rather  be  a  valetudinarian 
all  my  life  than  leave  unexplored  the  Sanscrit  mine  which  I  have 
just  opened."  In  another  letter  he  gives  us  an  insight  into  his 
occupations.  "  By  rising  before  the  sun,  I  allot  an  hour  every  day 
to  Sanscrit,  and  am  charmed  with  knowing  so  beautiful  a  sister 
of  Latin  and  Greek."  It  was  then  his  custom  to  walk  to  town, 
arriving  there  before  the  sun  had  gained  much  ascendency,  and 
remaining  until  evening,  when  he  walked  home  again.  "  It  rarely 
happens,"  he  says,  "  that  favorite  studies  are  closely  connected 
with  the  strict  discharge  of  our  duty,  as  mine  happily  are :  even 
in  this  cottage,  I  am  assisting  the  court  by  studying  the  Arabic  and 
Sanscrit,  and  have  now  rendered  it  an  impossibility  for  the  Mo- 
hammedan or  Hindoo  lawyers  to  impose  upon  us  with  erroneous 
opinions."  It  was  one  of  his  favorite  projects  to  make  a  complete 
digest  of  Hindoo  and  Mohammedan  laws,  after  the  model  of  the 
Pandects  of  Justinian.  .  The  importance  of  this  was  evident  from 
the  fact  that  the  Hindoo  and  Mohammedan  laws  were  written,  for 
the  most  part,  in  Sanscrit  and  Arabic.  "  My  experience  justifies 
me  in  declaring,"  he  says,  "  that  I  could  not,  with  an  easy  con- 
science, concur  in  a  decision  merely  on  the  opinion  of  native  law- 
yers in  any  cause  in  which  they  could  have  the  remotest  interest 
in  misleading  the  court ;  nor,  how  vigilant  soever  we  might  be, 
would  it  be  very  difficult  for  them  to  mislead  us ;  for  a  single 
obscure  text,  explained  by  themselves,  might  be  quoted  as  express 
authority,  though,  perhaps,  in  the  very  book  from  which  it  was 
selected,  it  might  be  differently  explained,  or  introduced  only  for 
the  purpose  of  being  exploded."  In  the  execution  of  this  great  proj- 
ect he  enlisted  the  sympathies  and  assistance  of  Lord  Cornwallis, 
the  new  governor  general,  who  placed  all  the  facilities  of  the  state 


SIR  WILLIAM  JONES.  477 

at  his  disposal,  and  thus  enabled  Jones  to  select  as  his  assistants 
the  most  learned  natives  of  the  district. 

In  the  beginning  of  1794  he  published  a  translation  of  the  or- 
dinances of  Menu,  an  extremely  curious  work,  illustrating  the 
manners  and  customs  of  a  very  ancient  people,  and  their  peculiar 
religious  ceremonies,  to  which  they  have  adhered  down  to  the 
present  time.  During  all  this  time  Sir  William  enjoyed  good 
health,  and  frequently  boasted  of  having  conquered  the  climate ; 
but  his  lady  suffered  severely  from  the  scorching  heat,  and  became 
so  much  debilitated  that  Sir  William  was  alarmed,  and  induced 
her  to  return  to  England.  She  took  her  departure  in  a  sailing 
vessel,  and  bade  farewell  to  a  husband  whom  she  was  doomed 
never  to  see  again.  %Four  months  later,  and  Sir  William  was  at- 
tacked with  what  appeared  to  be  the  ague,  arising,  as  he  imag- 
ined, from  indiscreet  exposure  to  the  night  air.  Medical  assist- 
ance was  called  in,  and  the  disease  was  pronounced  to  be  inflam- 
mation of  the  liver — the  scourge  of 'British  India.  The  symp- 
toms became  more  aggravated,  and,  in  spite  of  every  attention, 
the  patient  sunk  on  the  seventh  day.  Sir  William  was  in  the 
forty-seventh  year  of  his  age.  Few  men  have  died  so  universally 
respected.  His  amiable  disposition,  added  to  his  great  acquire- 
ments in  almost  every  department  of  human  knowledge,  endeared 
him  to  all  classes  of  people.  There  is  no  doubt  that  his  zeal  in 
the  discharge  of  his  duties  ("  I  never  was  happy,"  he  wrote,  "  till 
I  was  settled  in  India")  predisposed  his  constitution  to  the  attack 
which  terminated  his  life.  His  acquaintance  with  the  history, 
philosophy,  laws,  religion,  science,  and  manners  of  nations,  was 
most  extensive  and  profound.  As  a  linguist,  he  has  scarcely,  if 
ever,  been  surpassed  ;  he  had  made  himself  acquainted  with  no 
fewer  than  twenty-eight  different  languages,  and  was  studying  the 
grammars  of  several  of  the  Oriental  dialects  up  to  within  a  week 
of  his  lamented  death.  In  accordance  with  a  determination  to 
which  we  have  already  referred,  he  perfected  himself  in  Greek, 
Latin,  Italian,  French,  Spanish,  Portuguese,  Hebrew,  Arabic, 
Persian,  Turkish,  German,  and  English  ;  made  himself  master  of 
Sanscrit,  and  less  completely  of  Hindostanee  and  Bengalee,  and 
also  of  the  dialects  called  the  Tibetian,  the  Pali,  the  Phalavi,  and 
the  Deri.  The  other  languages  which  he  studied  more  or  less 
completely  were  the  Chinese,  Russian,  Runic,  Syriac,  Ethiopic, 
Coptic,  Dutch,  Swedish,  and  Welsh. 


478  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

It  was  by  the  observance  of  a  few  simple  maxims  that  Sir  Wil- 
liam Jones  was  able  to  accomplish  what  he  did.  One  of  these 
was,  never  to  neglect  an  opportunity  of  improvement ;  another 
was,  that  whatever  had  been  attained  was  attainable  by  him, 
and  that  therefore  the  real  or  supposed  difficulties  of  any  pursuit 
formed  no  reason 'why  he  should  not  engage  in  it.  "  It  was  also," 
says  Lord  Teignmouth,  "  a  fixed  principle  with  him,  from  which 
he  never  voluntarily  deviated,  not  to  be  deterred  by  any  difficult- 
ies which  were  surmountable  from  prosecuting  to  a  successful 
termination  what  he  had  once  deliberately  undertaken."  Like 
all  great  workers,  Jones  was  scrupulously  methodical,  and  had  a 
particular  time  for  every  occupation,  thus  avoiding  interruption 
and  confusion.  9  • 

The  best  monument  of  his  fame  was  raised  by  his  widow,  who 
published  a  splendid  edition  of  his  works  in  6  vols.  quarto,  1799, 
and  also,  at  her  own  expense,  placed  a  fine  marble  statue  to  his 
memory,  executed  by  Flaxman,  in  the  ante-chamber  of  Universi- 
ty College,  Oxford. 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH. 

THIS  redoubtable  hero  was  born  at  Willoughby,  in  Lincoln- 
shire, in  the  year  1579.  He  was  descended,  he  says  in  his  auto- 
biography, from  the  family  of  the  ancient  Smiths  of  Crudley,  in 
Lancashire,  on  the  father's  side,  and  from  the  Rickards,  of  Great 
Heck,  in  Yorkshire,  on  the  mother's.  At  an  early  age,  his  pa- 
rents having  died,  he  was  placed  under  the  care  of  guardians,  but 
these  unfaithful  stewards  ill-treated  the  youth,  squandered  his 
property,  and  otherwise  behaved  in  a  manner  highly  offensive  to 
his  sensitive  nature.  In  those  days,  young  people  considered  it 
an  excellent  plan  to  run  away,  if  all  things  were  not  quite  com- 
fortable at  home.  There  were  no  electric  telegraphs,  rail-roads,  or 
steam-boats  to  dart  after  the  truant  and  bring  him  back  again. 
If  he  had  a  stout  heart,  a  keen  wit,  or  a  sharp  sword,  it  was 
probable  that  he  would  make  a  way  for  himself  in  the  world,  and 
so  utterly  escape  from  all  his  former  grievances.  Smith's  dispo- 
sition became  known  to  his  guardians,  and,  to  punish  it,  they  sent 
him  as  an  apprentice  to  a  merchant  at  Lynn.  The  drudgery  of 
a  counting-house  was  the  last  thing  in  the  world  that  could  suit 


480  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

his  ardent  nature.  He  gave  it  a  very  brief  trial,  and  then,  bor- 
rowing all  the  money  he  could  (amounting  to  about  ten  shillings), 

.  he  started  for  the  Continent,  in  the  company  of  Mr.  Peregrine 
Bertz.  He  does  not  appear  to  have  been  a  great  favorite  with 
this  gentleman,  and  in  a  short  time  was  dismissed  from  his  train. 
Not  in  the  slightest  degree  discouraged  by  tliis  untoward  event, 
young  Smith  determined  to  go  in  search  of  his  own  fortunes.  He 
repaired,  accordingly,  to  the  Low  Countries,  where  a  plentiful  dish 
of  hard  fighting  was  always  supplied  to  the  hungry  visitor.  Here 
he  baptized  his  infant  weapon,  and  performed  prodigies  of  valor 
during  four  long  but  exciting  years  of  warfare.  At  length,  be- 
coming weary  of  the  struggle,  he  took  his  leave,  and  proceeded  to 
Scotland,  where,  after  a  slight  touch  of  shipwreck,  he  arrived  hi 
safety.  The  hospitality  of  the  Scotch  was  lavished  on  the  hero, 
but  the  court  of  King  James  entirely  overlooked  his  existence. 
Slightly  in  disgust,  therefore,  he  turned  his  back  on  the  Scottish 

"  metropolis,  and  once  more  returned  to  Willoughby,  in  Lincoln- 
shire. The  good  folks  made  a  lion  of  him  at  first,  and  bored  him 
with  their  invitations  and  attentions,  "  in  which,"  he  says,  "  he 
took  small  delight."  To  rid  himself  of  these  pests,  he  retired 
from  the  town,  and  established  himself  in  an  open  field  a  good  way 
from  it.  Here,  beside  a  gay  little  rivulet,  he  built  himself  a  pa- 
vilion of  boughs,  and,  dispensing  with  all  the  luxuries  of  civiliza- 
tion, devoted  himself  to  the  study  of  war  and  morals.  Concern- 
ing the  latter  he  appeared  to  have  somewhat  loose  notions.  He 
looked  upon  the  earth  as  a  large  domain,  bestowed  indifferently 
upon  all  Adam's  children,  who  might,  without  blame,  make  use 
freely  of  what  they  found  in  their  way.  Practically  applied,  this 
theory  resulted  in  a  pastime  which  the  law  frowns  at,  under  the 
name  of  poaching.  In  other  words,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  re- 
plenishing his  scanty  board  with  the  prime  venison  and  plump 
pheasants  of  his  neighbors.  He  did  not  exactly  do  it  himself. 
He  had  a  worthy  retainer  who  performed  the  important  functions 
of  the  commissariat  department,  while  the  virtuous  Smith  im- 
proved himself  in  the  pages  of  Machiavelli  and  Marcus  Aurelius. 
The  only  amusement  he  took  was  on  horseback,  either  hunting, 
or  tilting  with  the  lance,  and  acquiring  a  dexterity  with  that 
weapon  for  which  he  was  afterward  renowned.  Such  a  charac- 
ter in  a-  quiet  agricultural  district  be9ame  necessarily  an  object 
of  extreme  curiosity.  Every  one  talked  about  the  chivalric  her- 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH.  481 

niit,  and  not  a  few  fair  damsels  sighed  for  the  possession  of  such 
a  strange,  fascinating  knight,  who  seemed  to  live  in  a  romance 
world  of  his  own,  with  which  this  coarser  firmament  had  no  sort 
of  connection.  There  were  others,  too,  who  became  interested 
in  his  strange  life,  especially  one — an  Italian  gentleman — of  the 
name  of  Peodoro  Polaloga,  a  superb  horseman,  and  rider  to  the 
Earl  of  Lincoln.  Smith  derived  so  much  satisfaction  from  this 
gentleman's  society,  that  he  was,  after  a  time,  persuaded  to  aban- 
don his  pavilion  of  boughs,  and  once  more  return  to  the  world. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  peace  was  a  very  objectionable  state  of 
things  to  Smith,  and  that  he  infinitely  preferred  cutting  throats 
wherever  and  whenever  that  relaxation  could  be  enjoyed.  At 
that  time  the  Turks  were  ravaging  Hungary,  and  pitching  into 
the  Christian  armies  with  unusual  ferocity.  Smith,  -who,  to  use 
a  vulgar  expression,  was  spoiling  for  a  fight,  determined  to  join 
the  Christians,  and  show  the  infidels  what  hard  fighting  really 
meant.  With  this  object  in  view,  he  attired  himself  in  great  splen- 
dor, and  conveyed  himself  and  arms  on  board  ship.  The  attract- 
iveness of  his  appearance  excited  the  cupidity  of  some  of  the 
rogues  on  board,  who,  seeing  that  he  was  as  innocent  as  a  child 
of  all  matters  relating  to  the  world,  made  up  their  minds  to  rob 
him.  One  of  the  band  made  approaches  to  Smith,  pretending  to 
be  a  nobleman  of  high  degree,  while  three  of  his  confederates  were 
in  attendance  in  the  capacity  of  servants.  A  sort  of  intimacy 
sprung  up  between  them ;  Smith  divulged  his  plans  for  the  future, 
and  the  man  of  birth  condescendingly  undertook  to  introduce  him 
to  a  French  duchess,  "whose  husband,"  he  said,  "  was  commander 
for  the  emperor  in  Hungary."  The  prospect  of  such  desirable 
patronage  was  too  much  for  our  guileless  hero.  Gorgeous  visions 
of  splendid  military  success  and  advancement  sprang  from  his  fer- 
vid mind,  and  gave  lustre  to  his  manly  eye.  At  length  the  ves- 
sel arrived  in  the  roads  of  St.  Valery-sur-Somme.  Here  the  pre- 
tended nobleman  undertook  to  convey  Smith's  baggage  ashore, 
and,  with  the  assistance  of  the  captain,  who  was  in  league  with 
the  robbers,  did  so  in  the  most  effectual  manner.  It  was  landed 
with  such  safety  that  poor  deluded  Smith  never  saw  it  again.  He 
was  reduced  to  such  straits  by  this  misfortune,  that  he  had  to  sell 
his  cloak  in  order  to  proceed  on  his  journey.  One  of  the  passen- 
gers on  board — a  soldier — did  all  he  could  to  mitigate  the  an- 
noyance, and  even  accompanied  Sniith  to  Mortain,  where  the  rob- 

X 


482  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

bers  (who  resorfed  to  the  profession  as  a  kind  of  elegant  diver- 
sion) resided.  But  in  those  days  of  tardy  justice,  the  words  of 
an  injured  foreigner  were  not  listened  to  with  eager  attention. 
The  villains  escaped.  With  such  funds  as  he  could  now  com- 
mand, our  hero  turned  once  more  toward  the  sea-coast,  and  trav- 
eled from  port  to  port,  with  the  hope  of  finding  a  ship  to  convey 
him  to  his  destination.  It  was  not  so  easy  in  those  days,  and  his 
slender  means  were  soon  exhausted ;  weariness,  hunger,  and  heart- 
sickness  overtook  him  ;  he  dropped  from  exhaustion,  and  thought, 
as  you  or  I  would  have  done,  of  the  gay,  glad  things  at  home,  which 
he  would  never,  never  see-again.  Happily,  a  rich  farmer  found 
him  as  he  lay  by  the  road  side,  and  bore  him  tenderly  to  his  house, 
where  he  was  properly  cared  for,  and  sent  on  his  journey  again 
with  renewed  vigor. 

Shortly  after  this  he  came  across  one  of  the  four  villains  who 
had  robbed  him,  and  a  very  quiet  and  earnest  fight  immediately 
ensued.  It  is  to  be  hoped  the  poor  wretch  had  said  his  pray- 
ers, for  his  black  soul  took  flight  that  day  through  a  convenient 
aperture  made  for  the  purpose  by  our  hero.  Smith  now  traveled 
through  the  western  and  southern  provinces  of  France,  visited  the 
kingdoms  of  Bearne  and  Navarre,  and  at  length  arrived  at  Mar- 
seilles, where  he  embarked  for  Italy.  The  passengers  being  most- 
ly bigoted  Catholics,  and  Smith,  on  the  other  hand,  being  a  tre- 
mendous Protestant,  fierce  disputes  immediately  ensued,  and, 
when  a  terrific  storm  arose,  all  the  black-coated  priests  declared 
that  it  was  caused  entirely  by  Smith's  presence  on  board,  and  so, 
to  put  a  stop  to  it,  they  threw  him  overboard.  Fortunately,  he 
had  learned  the  art  of  swimming,  and  managed  to  buffet  his  way 
to  the  lonely  shore  of  an  uninhabited  island,  where,  as  good  luck 
would  have  it,  a  vessel  lay  at  anchor  waiting  for  the  storm  to 
abate.  The  captain  turned  out  to  be  a  friend  of  some  of  Smith's 
acquaintances,  and,  when  he  heard  his  story,  behaved  in  the  most 
handsome  manner.  But  the  captain  was  afflicted  with  the  moral 
looseness  of  the  times,  and  erred  on  the  side  of  piracy.  During 
the  voyage  they  came  across  several  vessels  which  they  fought 
and  plundered  in  a  perfectly  systematic  manner.  Smith  behaved 
with  such  gallantry  that,  when  he  reached  the  Roads  of  Antibes, 
he  found  himself  the  master  of  a  good  deal  of  ready  cash — 500 
zechins,  and  of  a  box  containing  as  many  more — which,  he  ob- 
serves rather  brazenly,  "  God  sent  him."  Feeling  now  complete- 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH.  483 

ly  at  his  ease,  he  made  the  tour  of  Italy,  and,  having  gratified  his 
curiosity  in  that  land  of  romance,  started  on  his  way  once  more, 
and  in  due  time  joined  the  army  of  Ferdinand,  Arch-duke  of  Aus- 
tria, afterward  Emperor  of  Germany.  He  soon  distinguished  him- 
self by  great  personal  bravery,  and  by  the  exercise  of  many  ingen- 
ious military  tactics,  which  caused  him  to  be  promoted  to  the  rank 
of  captain.  But  he  appears  never  to  have  had  what  he  considered 
a  fair  share  of  fighting,  although  he  took  an  active  part  in  all  the 
battles,  and  perforated  Paynim  bodies  with  the  heartiest  of  wills 
and  the  sharpest  of  weapons.  To  satisfy  his  appetite  in  this  re- 
spect, he  cheerfully  accepted  any  private  invitations  to  fight.  On 
one  occasion,  a  Turkish  officer — desirous,  as  he  said,  of  amusing 
the  ladies — solicited  some  Christian  officer,  of  equal  rank,  to  en- 
gage with  him  in  a  passage  of  arms  before  Regal.  Lots  were  cast, 
and  Smith  won  the  privilege.  He  mounted  his  war-horse  with 
great  glee,  and,  lance  in  hand,  started  for  the  ground.  "  The  ram- 
parts of  Regal,"  he  says,  "  were  lined  with  ladies,  while  the  Chris- 
tian host  stood  in  battalions  on  the  plain,  to  observe  the  conduct  of 
their  own  champion."  The  combat  was  of  short  duration.  Smith 
rushed  at  the  Osmanli,  and  pierced  him  through  the  head  with  his 
lance,  and  then  descending,  cut  off  the  poor  Fellow's  damaged  mem- 
ber, and  bore  it  in  triumph  to  his  camp.  The  Osmanlis  were  not 
satisfied  with  this.  On  the  following  day  they  sent  a  special 
challenge  to  Smith,  staking  the  head,  horse,  and  armor  of  an- 
other champion  against  his  prowess.  Smith  was  quite  willing  to 
accommodate  the  Osmanlis.  They  met,  and  at  the  first  charge 
shivered  their  lances  without  doing  any  particular  damage.  Pis- 
tols were  then  drawn,  and  finally  "a  hand-to-hand  struggle  ensued, 
both  grappling  fiercely  on  the  ground.  When  Smith  got  up,  he 
was  the  possessor  of  a  bleeding  head,  a  horse,  and  a  suit  of  ar- 
mor. Imagining  that  the  Osmanlis  might  not  yet  be  thoroughly 
happy  in  their  mind,  and  anxious  to  accommodate  them  in  every 
reasonable  way,  he  now  sent  a  challenge  to  Regal,  expressing  his 
willingness  to  restore  the  two  heads  he  had  in  his  possession,  pro- 
vided they  would  send  some  one  who  would  make  the  number 
three,  by  adding  that  of  the  challenger.  A  redoubtable  Osmanli, 
of  the  name  of  Bonamalgro  (at  least  so  Smith  calls  him),  took  up 
the  gage  thus  thrown  down,  and  promised  to  entertain  Smith  with 
pistol,  battle-axe,  and  sword,  but  not  with  the  lance,  of  which  he 
appears  to  have  had  a  wholesome  distrust.  They  met  with  the 


484  SELF-MADE  MK.V 

proposed  conveniences ;  pistols  were  discharged  without  effect, 
and  they  began  chopping  each  other  with  their  battle-axes.  It 
was  a  tough  fight,  and  at  one  moment,  when  Smith  lost  his  weap- 
on, appeared  to  be  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  Turk.  A  shout 
was  raised  from  the  ramparts  of  Regal,  and  in  both  armies  Smith 
was  looked  upon  as  a  lost  hero.  But  dexterously  avoiding  the 
heavy  blow  aimed  at  his  skull,  and  drawing  his  sword,  he  soon 
turned  the  tables  on  his  adversary,  and  rolled  him  in  the  dust, 
with  a  fatal  thrust  through  a  vital  part.  For  these  brilliant  ex- 
ploits Smith  was  suitably  honored  by  his  comrades,  and  the  gen- 
eral embraced  him,  and  presented  him  with  a  horse  superbly  ca- 
parisoned, and  a  cimeter  and  belt  worth  three  hundred  ducats ; 
he  was  promoted,  also,  to  the  rank  of  major.  In  acknowledg- 
ment of  his  services,  the  Duke  of  Transylvania  gave  him  per- 
mission to  wear  three  Turks'  heads  quartered  on  his  shield,  and 
swore  ever  after  to  bear  them  in  his  own  colors.  In  addition  to 
this,  he  bestowed  on  him  his  portrait  set  in  gold,  and  a  pension 
for  life  of  300  ducats  per  year.  The  coat  of  arms  (with  the  mot- 
to, "Vincere  est  vivere")  was  afterward  admitted,  and  recorded 
in  the  English  College  of  Heralds. 

The  good  fortune  which  had  tarried  with  him  such  an  un- 
usual time  now  took  wings.  During  one  of  the  many  engage- 
ments in  which  he  had  part,  he  was  wounded,  and  lay  stretched 
on  the  field  of  battle  to  all  appearances  a  corpse.  The  ghouls 
who  go  over  the  battle-field  at  night  to  plunder  the  dead  came 
across  him  in  this  situation,  and  perceiving,  by  the  elegance  and 
splendor  of  his  armor,  that  he  was  a  man  of  distinction,  spared 
his  life  in  the  expectation  of  a  heavy  ransom.  As  this  did  not 
come,  our  wounded  hero  was  sold  for  a  slave,  and,  with  many  oth- 
er captives,  marched  off  to  Adrianople.  We  have  not  space  to 
follow  his  adventures  while  in  this  cruel  position ;  suffice  it  that 
he  succeeded  in  getting  up  a  love  affair  with  a  lady  of  quality, 
for  which  he  was  removed  to  a  distant  settlement,  and  subjected 
to  great  indignities  and  hardships  by  his  master,  the  lady's  broth- 
er. He  put  a  stop  to  these  in  a  characteristic  way,  and  made  his 
escape  into  Southern  Russia,  on  his  way  back  to  the  field  of  bat- 
tle. He  was  received  with  great  hospitality,  and  made  a  sort  of 
triumphal  progress  through  Hungary  and  Bohemia,  until  he  fell 
in  with  his  distinguished  patron,  the  Duke  Sigismund,  who  gen- 
erously bestowed  on  him  1500  ducats  in  gold,  and  a  military  di- 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH.  485 

ploma  stating  his  rank  and  services.  Smith  now  traveled  through 
Germany,  France,  and  Spain.  He  then  crossed  over  into  Mo- 
rocco (where  there  was  a  little  fighting  going  on),  but,  finding  noth- 
ing worthy  of  his  steel,  embarked  for  his  native  land.  On  the  voy- 
age home  the  ship  was  attacked  by  two  Spanish  men-of-war,  and 
a  desperate  fight  took  place,  but  it  escaped  in  a  very  glorious  man- 
ner, and  our  hero  was  once  more  permitted  to  tread  the  green- 
sward of  his  fatherland. 

It  is  probable  that  Captain  John  Smith  was  a  great  lion,  and 
that  for  some  time  he  did  nothing  but  travel  from  one  hospitable 
board  to  another.  We  have  no  record  of  his  doings.  Evidently 
he  looked  on  the  triumphs  of  peace  as  unworthy  of  chronicling. 
It  is  only  when  fresh  adventures  are  afoot  that  he  again  appears 
prominently  before  the  public.  About  the  year  1604  every  one 
was  wild  with  the  marvelous  discoveries  in  the  Western  World. 
All  the  gay,  roving  spirits  of  the  day  were  eager  for  an  opportu- 
nity to  cross  the  Atlantic  and  participate  in  the  huge  gold  mines 
and  diamond  beds  which  were  supposed  to  exist  there.  The  mys- 
tery which  shrouded  that  distant  land  was  sufficient  to  captivate 
the  imagination  of  Captain  John  Smith.  The  rest  was  accon> 
plished  by  Captain  Bartholomew  Gosnold,  whose  acquaintance  he 
had  made,  and  who  at  this  time  was  on  the  point  of  starting  for 
Virginia  with  a  large  number  of  colonists.  Smith  threw  himself 
into  the  enterprise  with  all  his  accustomed  ardor,  and  any  objec- 
tions that  were  urged  by  capitalists  to  repeating  an  experiment 
already  unsuccessfully  attempted  were  demolished  by  his  triumph- 
ant eloquence.  At  length  every  thing  was  arranged  for  starting. 
Letters  patent  were  granted  by  the  king,  who,  in  order  to  cause 
as  much  confusion  as  his  stupid  brain  could  devise,  and  to  exer- 
cise a  little  authority,  inclosed  a  list  of  the  names  of  the  future 
governors  of  the  colony  in-  a  box,  the  seals  of  which  were  not  to 
be  broken  till  the  arrival  of  the  whole  party  in  Virginia.  On  the 
19th  of  December,  1606,  the  vessel  set  sail,  and,  after  many  ad- 
ventures and  perilous  delays,  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  Chesapeake 
Bay  on  the  26th  of  April,  1607.  Upon  the  first  land  they  made 
they  bestowed,  in  honor  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  the  name  of  Cape 
Henry.  Here  thirty  of  the  colonists  disembarked,  and,  while 
amusing  themselves  with  local  explorations,  were  set  upon  by  a 
party  of  five  Indians,  who  inflicted  dangerous  wounds  on  two  of 
their  number,  and  taught  them  to  proceed  with  greater  caution. 


486  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

King  James's  mysterious  box  was  duly  opened,  and  they  learned 
that  the  council — invested  with  power  to  elect  presidents  for  a 
year  —  was  to  consist  of  Bartholomew  Gosnold,  Captain  John 
Smith,  Edward  Wingfield,  Christopher  Newport,  John  Ratcliffe, 
John  Martin,  and  George  Kendall.  Affairs  of  importance  were 
to  be  examined  by  a  jury,  but  determined  by  the  decision  of  a 
majority  of  the  council,  in  which  the  president  had  two  votes. 
On  the  13th  of  May  following  the  colonists  fixed  on  a  site  for 
their  city,  and  called  it  Jamestown.  The  members  of  the  council 
•were  duly  sworn,  and  Mr.  Wingfield  elected  the  first  president. 
Although  Smith  was  expressly  mentioned  in  the  royal  charter  as 
one  of  the  council,  he  was  excluded  by  the  other  members  of  that 
body.  It  is  probable  that  his  talents  and  popularity  were  viewed 
with  distrust  and  jealousy.  Whatever  the  cause,  Smith  consider- 
ed it  unworthy  of  notice.  The  stern  work  of  raising  a  city  in  the 
forest  now  commenced.  The  industrial  music  of  the  hammer, 
the  anvil,  and  the  saw  was  heard  from  morning  till  night.  Smith 
and  Newport,  with  twenty  others,  were  dispatched  to  discover  the 
source  of  the  river  on  the  banks  of  which  they  had  commenced 
building.  They  proceeded  up  the  river  six  days,  passing  many 
native  villages,  until  they  arrived  at  the  falls.  Here  they  visited 
the  renowned  chief  Powhatan,  with  whom  they  exchanged  civili- 
ties and  promises  of  friendship.  Their  farther  progress  being  in- 
terrupted by  the  rapids,  they  put  about  and  prepared  to  return 
home.  The  behavior  of  the  natives  was  kind  and  hospitable  un- 
til they  had  got  within  twenty  miles  of  Jamestown  :  their  con- 
duct then  began  to  excite  suspicion.  On  returning  to  the  colony 
the  reason  became  apparent.  An. attack  had  been  made  on  the 
town,  and,  owing  to  the  defenseless  state  of  the  place,  through 
the  culpable  negligence  of  Governor  Wingfield,  the  natives  had 
gained  an  advantage,  and  now  evidently  looked  forward  to  the 
total  extermination  of  the  whites.  Made  wiser  by  experience,  the 
governor  now  fortified  the  place,  and,  a  few  days  after  the  return 
of  Smith,  the  savages  sued  for  peace. 

The  ships  which  had  brought  out  the  colonists  soon  weighed 
anchor,  and  sailed  for  .home,  leaving  the  little  band  to  shift  for 
themselves  as  best  they  could.  The  white  streak  of  their  wakes 
had  scarcely  disappeared  from  the  waters  when  a  terrible  sickness 
broke  out  among  the  settlers,  so  that  very  few  could  walk  or  stand. 
Scarcity  of  provisions  contributed  largely  to  the  sufferings  of  the 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH.  487 

poor  creatures.  The  common  food  was  scarcely  fit  for  human 
beings  to  eat,  and  the  rations  were  much  too  scanty.  To  add  to 
their  troubles  and  heighten  the  horrors  of  famine,  it  was  discovered 
that  the  governor  was  a  greedy  hog,  and  had  laid  up  stores  of  nice 
things  for  himself,  while  his  poor  companions  were  starving  and 
rotting  around  him.  One  half  of  the  colonists  died  in  this  miser- 
able way,  and  the  remainder,  like  sensible  men,  deposed  the  bad 
governor,  and  elected  Captain  John  Ratcliffe  in  his  stead.  Noth- 
ing could  be  .more  desperate  than  the  condition  of  the  small  gar- 
rison. Their  provisions  were  exhausted  ;  the  fisheries  yielded  but 
a  small  and  uncertain  supply,  and  they  were  in  momentary  expect- 
ation of  an  attack  from  the  hostile  Indians  in  the  vicinity.  The 
latter  apprehension,  however,  was  soon  removed,  for  the  savages 
took  pity  on  their  wretchedness,  and,  instead  of  attacking,  actu- 
ally brought  them  liberal  supplies  of  fruits,  vegetables,  and  game. 
The  new  governor,  however,  did  not  turn  out  milch  better  than 
his  predecessor.  He  lacked  the  force  of  character  and  strength 
of  judgment  essential  to  such  a  crisis.  Smith  was  pre-eminently 
endowed  with  these  qualities,  and  it  was  but  natural,  therefore, 
that  the  harassed  and  desponding  settlers  should  look  to  him  as 
their  only  hope.  He  commenced  setting  things  to  rights  with 
characteristic  energy.  By  his  own  industry  he  stimulated  the 
industry  of  others,  and  by  pointing  out  what  had  to  be  done  in  a 
quiet,  solicitous  way,  he  got  it  done  expeditiously  and  well.  In 
a  short  time  he  had  procured  lodgings  for  every  one  but  himself. 
The  most  knotty  question  to  be  solved  was  how  to  procure  pro- 
visions sufficient  to  hold  out  until  the  harvesting  time  came  round 
again.  He  determined  to  go  on  a  trading  excursion,  and  endeavor 
to  procure  a  supply  from  the  Indians.  Accordingly,  he  fitted  out ' 
the  shallop,  manned  it  with  all  the  spare  hands  he  could  muster, 
and  dropped  down  the  river.  The  natives  were  well  informed  of 
the  abject  state  of  the  settlement,  and,  when  Smith  spoke  about 
barter,  they  only  laughed  at  him,  evidently  rejoiced  at  the  pros- 
pect of  a  speedy  destruction  of  the  whites.  Smith  was  not  the 
right  kind  of  person  to  laugh  at  with  impunity,  and  the  moment 
he  found  that  all  fair  means  were  of  no  avail,  he  changed  his 
tactics.  The  word  was  given  to  fire,  and  then,  suddenly  running 
the  boat  ashore,  the  natives  were  so  frightened  and  astonished 
that  they  scampered  away  in  all  directions.  This  was  precisely 
what  Smith  wanted.  Without  a  moment's  delay,  he  marched 


488  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

straight  into  their  village,  and  discovered  plentiful  heaps  of  corn. 
His  companions  wanted  to  help  themselves  without  any  kind  of 
parleying,  but  Smith,  who  looked  to  the  future  as  well  as  the 
present,  would  not  consent  to  the  pillage.  Presently  the  Indians, 
to  the  number  of  sixty  or  seventy,  painted  all  sorts  of  colors,  and 
bearing  in  front  their  most  redoubtable  idol,  returned  to  the  spot, 
and  boldly  attacked  the  English.  A  discharge  of  musketry  soon 
taught  the  poor  wretches  that  their  idol  was  of  no  avail  against 
the  white  man's  gunpowder.  A  number  lay  stretched  upon  the 
ground,  and  the  remainder  hastily  retreated,  leaving  their  false 
god  behind  them.  Shortly  afterward  they  sent  a  priest  to  treat 
with  the  victors  for  the  restoration  of  the  idol.  Smith  told  them 
that,  if  six  of  the  tribe  would  come  unarmed,  and  aid  him  in  load- 
ing his  boat,  he  would  not  only  restore  to  them  their  okee,  or  idol, 
but  make  them  large  presents  besides  of  beads,  copper,  and  hatch- 
ets. This  was  agreed  to,  and  the  natives  soon  returned,  bringing 
with  them  venison,  common  fowls,  turkeys,  and  bread. 

The  success  of  this  first  expedition  led  to  several  others,  in  all 
of  which  Smith's  tact,  decision,  and  firmness  were  eminent.  But 
he  labored  for  an  improvident  set  of  fellows,  who  were  much  too 
willing  to  depend  on  his  trading  voyages,  rather  than  work  for 
their  own  daily  bread.  Indeed,  when  we  reflect  on  the  many 
vexations  that  their  idleness  must  have  caused  our  hero,  we  are 
forced  to  admire  the  estimable  generosity  which  actuated  him  in 
not  only  working,  but  exposing  himself  to  danger  for  their  main- 
tenance. One  would  certainly  think  that  such  a  capital  fellow 
could  have  no  enemies ;  but  he  had,  and  mean  ones  too.  Fore- 
most among  these  were  Wingfield  and  Kendall,  who  had  been 
living  in  disgrace,  and  watching  the  growth  of  Smith's  popularity 
with  jealous  spite.  They  took  advantage  of  his  absence  on  one 
occasion  to  conspire  with  some  disorderly  malcontents  and  escape 
to  England  in  the  bark,  which,  by  Smith's  direction,  had  b.een 
fitted  up  for  a  trading  voyage,  to  be  undertaken  the  next  year. 
They  had  already,  in  part,  executed  their  design  when  Smith  re- 
turned, for  they  were  actually  on  board,  and  the  pinnace  was  pre- . 
paring  to  descend  the  stream.  Smith  brought  them  to  in  prompt 
style.  He  assembled  his  men  on  the  beach,  invited  the  deserters 
to  return  to  their  duty,  and,  when  they  refused,  gave  them  a  vol- 
ley as  a  persuader.  A  brisk  action  ensued,  and  it  was  only  when 
Kendall  had  fallen  that  the  others  surrendered. 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH.  489 

It  was  Smith's  misfortune  shortly  after  this  to  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  Indians.  They  set  upon  him  unexpectedly,  and, 
before  he  had  time  to  protect  himself,  wounded  him  in  the  thigh 
with  an  arrow.  Notwithstanding  this  impediment,  he  made  a 
gallant  resistance,  and  would  have  escaped  from  their  clutches 
but  for  another  accident.  In  retreating  with  his  face  to  the  foe, 
he  backed  into  a  morass,  and  stuck  fast  up  to  the  waist  in  peat. 
None  of  the  Indians  dared  approach  him,  even  in  that  helpless 
position,  and  it  was  only  when  he  was  half  dead  with  cold  and 
had  thrown  away  his  arms  that  they  drew  him  out.  He  was,  of 
course,  conducted  to  the  chief  of  the  tribe,  and,  having  been  con- 
demned to  death,  was  tied  to  a  tree  for  immediate  execution. 
Without  losing  the  slightest  particle  of  his  customary  self-posses- 
sion, he  pulled  out  a  small  pocket  compass  which  he  happened  to 
have  with  him,  and  presented  the  instrument  to  the  chief,  accom- 
panied with  a  speech,  which,  as  it  might  be  his  last,  he  did  not 
strive  to  make  particularly  short.  In  return  for  this,  the  chief 
released  him  from  the  tree,  but  sent  him  a  prisoner  to  one  of  the 
villages.  He  was  to  be  reserved  for  a  more  epicurean  death : 
they  intended  to  get  him  into  fine  condition,  and  then  eat  him ; 
at  least  so  poor  Smith  imagined,  from  the  profusion  of  food  with 
which  he  was  supplied.  He  was  kept  in  suspense  for  a  long  time, 
but  at  last,  when  tolerably  plump,  they  conducted  him  to  the  resi- 
dence of  the  famed  Powhatan,  who  received  him  with  imposing 
ceremony,  "  seated  on  a  kind  of  throne,  elevated  above  the  floor 
of  a  large  hut,  in  the  midst  of  which  was  a  fire.  He  (Powhatan) 
was  clothed  with  a  robe  of  raccoon  skins.  Two  young  women,  his 
daughters,  sat  one  on  his  right  and  the  other  on  his  left,  and  on 
each  side  of  the  hut  there  were  two  rows  of  men  in  front,  and  the 
same  number  of  women  behind.  When  Smith  was  brought  home, 
they  all  set  up  a  great  shout."  Smith  was  indulged  with  another 
feast  in  the  palace  of  this  dusky  monarch,  but,  considering  the 
mysterious  preparations  that  were  going  on,  it  is  scarcely  proba- 
ble that  he  had  a  very  hearty  appetite.  It  became  certain  that 
his  fate  was  now  to  be  decided,  and  equally  certain  that  the  de- 
cision was  against  him.  The  fatal  preliminaries  were  soon  ar- 
ranged. A  couple  of  ominous-looking  stones  were  brought  in, 
and  placed  before  Powhatan.  Upon  one  of  these  unpleasant 
pillows  Smith  was  compelled  to  lay  his  head.  Rascally-looking 
chiefs  then  approached  with  heavy  clubs  raised  in  the  air,  ready 

X2 


490  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

to  dash  out  his  brains  at  the  word  of  command.  At  this  moment 
Pocahontas,  the  favorite  daughter  of  the  great  chief,  interceded  for 
the  prostrate  prisoner,  and  begged  piteously  for  his  life.  Finding 
that  Powhatan  was  inexorable,  she  determined,  with  true  Indian 
fortitude,  to  perish  herself,  rather  than  give  up  her  point.  She 
rushed  to  the  stone,  placed  her  own  pretty  head  upon  that  of  the 
prisoner,  and  told  them  that  they  should  kill  her  before  they 
touched  him.  Moved  by  this  scene,  Powhatan,  her  father,  grant- 
ed Sinith  his  pardon,  and  shortly  afterward  agreed  that  he  should 
be  sent  to  Jamestown,  provided  he  would  give  them  two  great 
guns  and  a  grindstone  by  way  of  ransom.  The  chief  was  ready 
to  bestow  on  him  a  large  tract  of  country,  and  to  regard  him  as 
his  son,  immediately  on  receipt  of  these  valuable  articles. 

After  this  romantic  incident  Smith  got  on  very  well  with  the 
Indians,  and  was  able  to  procure  constant  supplies  of  provisions. 
Pocahontas,  his  beautiful  protectress,  paid  frequent  visits  to  the 
settle'ment,  and  on  several  occasions,  when  little  difficulties  ap- 
peared to  be  growing  up  between  the  king  and  the  settlers,  her 
gentle  intercession  brushed  away  the  angry  clouds  and  restored 
quiet. 

The  hungry  fellows  of  the  colony  had  to  be  fed  by  hand,  like  so 
many  ravens,  and,  as  the  ships  from  the  Old  Country  did  not  come 
in  with  great  regularity,  they  were  often  reduced  to  great  straits. 
The  subject  of  our  memoir  was  their  sole  dependence.  At  the 
proper  moment  he  fitted  out  the  boat,  and  sailed  away  into  the 
interior  in  search  of  provisions,  never  coming  back  empty-handed. 
In  one  of  these  expeditions  he  discovered  the  Bay  of  Chesapeake, 
and  afterward  explored  it  minutely,  and  constructed  a  map,  which 
was  wonderfully  accurate,  all  things  considered.  Wherever  he 
went  he  was  respected  and  feared  by  the  natives,  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  moment  his  back  was  turned,  the  colonists  began  schem- 
ing and  quarreling,  and  making  their  wretched  lives  still  more 
miserable.  The  only  creditable  thing  they  did,  by  way  of  atone- 
ment, was  to  elect  Captain  John  Smith  their  president,  in  place 
of  Ratcliffe,  who,  like  his  predecessor,  turned  out  an  idle,  greedy 
fellow.  But  even  this  they  afterward  repented,  for  Smith,  know- 
ing that  safety  and  abundance  depended  entirely  on  their  own 
exertions,  set  them  all  to  work,  some  to  collect  pitch,  tar,  and 
soap-ashes,  and  others  to  hew  timber  in  the  woods.  They  who 
were  discontented,  says  the  quaint  historian,  drowned  the  noise  of 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH.  491 

every  third  blow  by  a  curse,  which  induced  the  president  to  make 
a  rule  against  swearing.  Every  man's  oaths  uttered  during  the 
day  were  to  be  counted,  and  for  each  offense  he  was  to  have  a 
gallon  of  water  poured  down  his  sleeve.  So  effectual  was  this 
punishment,  that  scarcely  a  profane  expression  was  heard  in  a 
week.  Notwithstanding  all  his  protestations,  constant  watchful- 
ness had  to  be  exercised  toward  Powhatan,  who  was  treacherous, 
and  disposed  to  be  revenged  on  the  whites  whenever  the  oppor- 
tunity occurred.  The  readiest  way  of  doing  this  was  to  starve 
them  out.  Experience  had  taught  him  that  they  were  improvi- 
dent, and  always  in  need  of  corn.  He  issued  orders  that  none 
should  be  supplied.  Every  kind  of  persuasion  was  used  in  vain, 
until  at  length  Captain  Smith  determined  that  he  should  be  brought 
to  reason  in  a  summary  way.  Accordingly,  with  forty-six  men 
in  the  pinnace  and  two  barges,  he  set  out  to  meet  the  wily  chief. 
Every  where  they  heard  warnings  of  Powhatan's  treachery,  but 
they  went  on  their  way,  and,  when  they  came  to  his  village,  sent 
him  a  friendly  message.  He  came  in  no  pleasant  mood;  told  them 
that  they  were  uninvited  ;  that  his  subjects  had  no  corn,  and  that 
he  could  give  only  forty  baskets  of  grain  in  exchange  for  forty 
swords.  In  the  end,  a  collision  took  place  between  the  English 
and  the  Indians.  The  latter  endeavored  to  cut  off  the  former  by 
surprise,  and  were  only  prevented  by  the  faithful  conduct  of  the 
beautiful  Pocahontas,  who  came  and  warned  them  of  their  danger. 
From  Powhatan  Smith  proceeded  to  another  Indian  town,  where 
the  chief  conceived  a  cunning  plot  to  murder  the  party.  Being 
in  one  of  the  native  houses,  Smith  saw  a  great  concourse  of  sav^ 
ages  without,  and  their  chief  near  the  door,  asking  him  to  come ' 
forth  and  receive  a  present.  Such  an  ambush  was  a  trifle  too 
playful  for  the  keen  military  eye  of  Smith,  and,  instead  of  popping 
into  it,  he  desired  his  companions  to  keep  careful  watch  on  all  the 
entrances.  Then,  seizing  his  opportunity,  he  darted  out,  caught 
the  old  chief  by  the  beard,  leveled  a  pistol  at  his  breast,  and  led 
him  trembling  into  the  midst  of  his  assembled  tribe.  This  daring 
act  struck  terror  into  the  whole  multitude.  They  gave  up  their 
leader's  arms,  and  cast  down  their  own ;  while  Smith,  still  hold- 
ing his  captive  by  the  hair,  addressed  him  in  a  speech,  half  of 
conciliation,  half  of  threats,  which  had  the  desired  result,  for  a 
quantity  of  provisions  were  brought,  and  all  parties  returned  to 
their  homes  in  apparent  amity. 


492  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

We  have  not  the  space  to  follow  Smith  in  all  his  bold  adven- 
tures, although  they  are  eminently  interesting,  and  characterized 
by  the  noble  bearing,  courage,  auji  disinterestedness  of  his  chival- 
ric  nature.  It  must  suffice  that  under  his  rule  the  colony  became 
as  prosperous  as  it  was  possible  for  it  to  become  with  such  a 
strange  population  of  worthless,  ill-tempered,  idle  fellows.  Quan- 
tities of  tar,  pitch,  and  soap  ashes  were  collected ;  a  successful  ex- 
periment was  made  in  the  manufacture  of  glass  ;  twenty  new 
houses  were  built,  with  a  more  convenient  church;  and  nets  for 
fishing  were  manufactured.  To  defend  themselves,  the  colonists 
also  erected  two  or  three  wooden  forts,  or  block-houses,  and,  to 
provide  for  the  next  year,  planted  nearly  forty  acres  with  vegeta- 
bles and  grain.  Altogether  the  prospects  were  cheering  to  every 
one  except  the  London  speculators,  who,  not  having  received  large 
cargoes  of  virgin  gold  or  bags  full  of  precious  stones,  were  great- 
ly dissatisfied  with  the  way  things  had  been  managed.  To  such 
an  extent  did  they  carry  their  dissatisfaction,  that  in  1609  they 
obtained  a  new  charter  from  the  king,  annulling  the  former  one. 
Immediately  afterward  they  dispatched  nine  ships,  with  500  emi- 
grants, to  take  possession  of  the  colony,  and  regulate  it  according 
to  the  latest  system  of  colonial  wisdom.  When  the  proper  offi- 
cers had  arrived,  Smith  made  preparations  to  return  to  England. 
The  magnanimity  of  his  character  was  illustrated  in  the  cheerful 
assistance  he  rendered  to  his  successors,  many  of  whom  were  pig- 
headed and  insolent,'  and  very  jealous  of  Smith's  popularity. 
Those  poor  creatures  who  had  worked  and  suffered  in  the  colon}' 
were  very  sorry  when  they  heard  that  their  brave  president  was 
'  about  to  leave  them,  and  they  tried  all  they  could  to  get  him  to 
stay ;  but  Smith  suffered  severely  from  an  accident  he  had  met 
with,  occasioned  by  the  explosion  of  a  bag  of  gunpowder,  and  felt 
sure  that  if  he  did  not  go  back  and  get  good  medical  advice  he 
would  infallibly  die.  So  Captain  John  Smith,  after  a  wonderfully 
active  and  wonderfully  troubled  career  of  more  than  two  years, 
took  his  departure  for  the  land  of  his  fathers.  Immediately  aft- 
erward the  colony  sunk  into  a  state  of  great  confusion  ;  "  large 
parties  were  cut  off  by  the  savages ;  a  division  of  authority  pro- 
duced entire  disorganization  ;  improvidence  wasted  the  stores 
which  had  been  accumulated,  and  the  settlers  fell  into  the  last 
stage  of  abasement  and  misery.  Within  six  months  after  the  loss 
of  their  virtuous  president,  the  number  at  Jamestown  was  not 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH.  493 

more  than  sixty,  including  women  and  children.  They  had  to 
feed  on  roots,  herbs,  acorns,  walnuts,  and  berries",  with  now  and 
then  a  scanty  supply  of  fish.  They  ate  their  starch,  and  at  last 
even  the  skins  of  their  horses.  '  Nay,  so  great,'  says  the  narra- 
tor, '  was  our  famine,  that  a  salvage  we  slew  and  buried,  the  poor- 
er sort  took  him  up  again  and  ate  him,  and  so  did  divers  one  an- 
other, boyled  and  stewed  with  roots  and  herbs.  And  one  among 
the  rest  did  kill  his  wife,  powdered  her,  and  had  eaten  part  of 
her  before  it  was  known,  for  which  he  was  executed,  as  he  well 
deserved.  Now,  whether  she  was  better  roasted,  boyled,  or  car- 
bonadoed, I  know  not ;  but  of  such  a  dish  as  powdered  wife  I 
never  heard.' "  Their  miseries  were  fortunately  terminated  by 
the  arrival  of  Sir  Thomas  Gates  and  Sir  George  Somers,  with  150 
men  and  a  quantity  of  provisions. 

We  hear  nothing  of  Captain  John  Smith  for  several  years  after 
his  return  to  England.  It  is  certain  that  he  was  much  sought 
after  by  the  lion-hunters,  and  that  he  became  very  famous  for  his 
strange  adventures.  It  is  also  certain  that  some  of  the  incidents 
of  his  strange  life  were  worked  into  a  dramatic  form,  and  repre- 
sented at  the  theatres,  much  to  the  annoyance  of  our  hero.  In 
1614  we  find  him  once  more  embarked  for  the  New  World,  but 
not  for  Virginia.  This  time  his  enterprising  spirit  sought  new 
laurels  in  the  cold  and  barren  ground  of  New  England.  There 
were  two  ships  in  the  expedition,  one  commanded  by  Ijimself,  and 
the  other  by  Captain  Thomas  Hunt.  On  the  30th  of  April  they 
arrived  at  the  coast  of  Maine,  and  immediately  commenced  look- 
ing for  mines  of  gold.  As  they  did  not  succeed  in  their  search, 
they  turned  their  attention  to  the  next  most  improbable  product 
of  the  country,  and  went  about  in  boats  to  capture  whales.  Fi- 
nally they  abandoned  both  pursuits,  and  devoted  their  attention 
to  the  catching  and  curing  of  codfish.  While  the  crew  were  thus 
employed,  Captain  Smith,  with  eight  men  in  a  small  boat,  sur- 
veyed and  examined  the  whole  coast  from  Penobscot  to  Cape 
Cod,  trafficking  with  the  Indians  for  furs,  and  twice  fighting  with 
them.  He  constructed  a  map  of  the  country,  and,  after  six 
months'  absence,  once  more  returned  to  England.  In  the  follow- 
ing year  our  restless  hero  embarked  once  more  for  the  Western 
World,  but,  when  about  a  hundred  and  twenty  leagues  from  port, 
he  encountered  a  violent  storm,  which  so  shattered  his  vessel  that 
he  had  to  return  and  procure  another  one.  On  the  24th  of  June, 


494  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

1615,  he  started  once  more  in  a  small  bark  of  sixty  tons,  manned 
by  thirty  men,  and  carrying  with  him  sixteen  settlers.  Soon  after 
his  departure  he  was  chased  by  an  English  pirate,  but  succeeded 
in  getting  away  on  friendly  terms.  Near  Fayal  he  came  across 
two  French  pirates.  His  crew  were  panic-stricken,  and  wanted 
him  to  surrender ;  but  he  scorned  the  idea,  and  told  them  that  he 
would  rather  blow  up  the  ship  than  yield  while  he  had  any  pow- 
der left.  So  he  blazed  away  with  his  four  little  guns,  and  con- 
trived to  make  his  escape.  Near  Flores  he  was  chased,  and,  sad 
to  say,  overtaken  by  four  French  men-of-war.  For  some  strange 
reason  Smith  was  kidnapped,  and  kept  on  board  the  French  frig- 
ate while  she  cruised  about  snapping  up  prizes.  In  the  mean 
time  the  crew  of  his  own  vessel  put  about,  and  returned  to  the 
port  whence  they  came.  Smith  had  no  opportunity  of  making 
his  escape  until  one  stormy  night,  while  the  vessel  of  his  captors 
was  lying  at  anchor  in  the  harbor  of  Rochelle.  When  it  was 
quite  dark  he  dropped  into  a  boat,  and  with  the  fragment  of  a 
handspike  in  place  of  oars,  floated  away  on  the  fierce  waters.  A 
strong  current  carried  him  out  to  sea,  and  all  night  he  was  rock- 
ed about  in  one  of  the  most  fearful  tempests  that  had  been  known 
on  that  coast  for  many  years.  A  kind  and  watchful  Providence 
surely  shielded  him  on  that  sad  night,  for,  when  he  was  car- 
ried in  by  the  morning  tide,  he  discovered  that  the  French  ship 
from  which  he  had  escaped  had  been  wrecked,  and  the  captain 
and  half  the  crew  drowned ;  yet  his  poor  little  cockle-shell  out- 
lived the  fury  of  the  elements !  On  landing  at  Rochelle  he 
lodged  a  complaint  with  the  judge  of  the  Admiralty,  but  without 
any  satisfactory  result.  Shortly  afterward  he  returned  to  En- 
gland, and  in  1616  published  the  narrative  of  his  two  voyages  to 
New  England,  which  he  had  written,  in  a  great  measure,  while  a 
prisoner  on  board  the  French  vessel.  Although  he  made  many 
efforts  to  return  to  the  country  in  which  he  was  so  deeply  inter- 
ested, and  which  owed  all  its  prosperity  to  his  presence,  and  all 
its  misfortunes  to  his  absence,  he  was  never  able  to  do,  so.  As  a 
speculation,  the  New  World  had  been  ruinous  to  the  capitalist^ 
who  embarked  in  it,  and  there  was  no  disposition  to  risk  more. 
The  remainder  of  his  life  was  therefore  passed  in  England,  but  in 
what  way  we  know  not.  Mr.  Hillard,  in  his  Memoir,  says,  "  The 
death  of  Captain  Smith  occurred  in  1631,  at  London,  in  the  fifty- 
second  year  of  his  age.  We  know  nothing  of  the  circumstances 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH.  495 

which  attended  it,  and  we  are  equally  ignorant  of  his  domestic 
and  personal  history,  with  whom  he  was  related  and  connected, 
where  he  resided,  what  was  the  amount  of  his  fortune,  what  were 
his. habits,  tastes,  personal  appearance,  manners,  and  conversation, 
and,  in  general,  of  those  personal  details  which  modest  men  com- 
monly do  not  record  about  themselves.  From  the  fact  that  he 
expended  so  much  money  in  the  great  objects  of  his  life,  and  par- 
ticularly in  the  publication  and  distribution  of  his  pamphlets,  we 
may  infer  that  he  was  independent  in  his  circumstances,  if  not 
wealthy.  For  his  labors  and  sacrifices  he  never  received  any  pe- 
cuniary recompense.  In  a  statement  addressed  to  his  majesty's 
commissioners  for  the  reformation  of  Virginia,  and  written,  prob- 
ably, about  1624,  he  says  that  he  has  spent  five  years,  and  more 
than  five  hundred  pounds,  in  the  service  of  Virginia  and  New  En- 
gland ;  '  yet,'  he  adds,  '  in  neither  of  those  countries  have  I  one 
foot  of  land,  nor  the  very  house  I  builded,  nor  the  ground  I  digged 
with  my  own  hands,  nor  ever  any  content  or  satisfaction  at  all, 
and  though  I  see  ordinarily  those  two  countries  shared  before  me 
by  them  that  neither  have  them,  nor  know  them  but  by  my  de- 
scriptions.' " 


JAMES    BKINDLEY. 

To  this  individual  the  world  is  indebted  for  one  of  its  most  val- 
uable and  economical  means  of  internal  communication.  James 
Brindley,  a  self-made  man,  was  the  founder  of  canal  navigation. 
The  first  undertaking  of  the  kind  was  projected  in  1759,  under 
the  patronage  of  the  Duke  of  Bridgewater,  and  the  subject  of  this 
memoir  was  the  man  by  whose  talents  the  scheme  was  carried 
into  execution. 

James  Brindley  was  born  in  1716  at  Tunstead,  or  at  Thornsett, 
in  Derbyshire.  His  father  was  a  spendthrift,  who  cared  more  for 
his  own  enjoyment  than  for  the  prosperity  of  his  family.  Conse- 
quently, Brindley -was  denied  the  advantages  of  an  education,  and 
at  an  early  age  had  to  obtain  employment  on  the  neighboring  farms. 
When  he  was  seventeen  he  apprenticed  himself  to  a  millwright, 
and  soon  displayed  so  much  expertness  that  he  was  frequently 
left  for  whole  weeks  to  execute  works. concerning  which  he  had 
received  no  instruction  from  his  master.  His  mechanical  ingenu- 
ity was  great,  and  when  he  experienced  a  difficulty,  his  inventive 
genius  assisted  him  to  get  out  of  it.  In  every  thing  he  undertook, 
he  displayed  so  much  ready  skill  that  the  millers  considered  it  a 
favor  to  obtain  his  services  in  preference  to  those  of  his  master. 


JAMES  BRINDLEY.  497 

In  due  time  he  set  up  for  himself  as  a  millwright,  and  by  his 
ingenious  inventions  and  contrivances  acquired  a  widely-spread 
reputation,  extending  even  to  the  metropolis.  He  was  employed 
in  the  construction  of  the  most  complicated  machinery,  and  seldom 
undertook  a  task  of  the  kind  without  introducing  some  important 
improvements  of  his  own. 

From  pursuits  of  this  kind  Brindley  was  called  away  to  others 
of  much  greater  importance.  The  Duke  of  Bridgewater  was 
owner  of  an  estate  at  Worsley,  about  seven  miles  from  Manches- 
ter, beneath  the  soil  of  which  were  immense  mines  of  coal,  from 
which  no  profit  accrued  to  him,  because  the  cost  of  land-carriage 
was  so  heavy  that  it  prevented  the  coal  from  being  brought  into 
the  market.  To  remedy  this  evil,  the  duke  obtained  acts  of  Par- 
liament (1758-9)  enabling  him  to  form  a  navigable  canal  from 
Worsley  to  Manchester.  Brindley' s  reputation  had  reached  the 
duke's  ears,  and  he  selected  him  as  a  fitting  person  to  carry  out 
his  scheme.  The  enterprise  was  one  of  remarkable  difficulty, 
and  had  to  be  prosecuted  in  the  face  of  prejudice  and  sneers. 
To  avoid  the  waste  of  water  which  the  lockage  would  occasion, 
the  canal  was  to  be  on  a  dead  level,  and,  to  effect  this,  tunnels 
must  be  perforated,  enormous  embankments  raised,  and  an  aque- 
duct of  three  arches  thrown  over  the  navigable  river  Irwell,  at  an 
elevation  of  little  less  than  fifty  feet.  The  audacity  of  this  last 
idea — carrying  water  over  water — exposed  Brindley  to  so  much 
ridicule,  that  for  a  moment  he  lost  confidence  in  himself,  and 
begged  the  duke  to  consult  some  other  engineer,  and  convince 
himself  that  he  was  not  insane.  A  learned  man  was  accordingly 
sent  for,  and  the  matter  proposed  to  him.  He  ridiculed  the  idea, 
and,  when  the  height  and  dimensions  were  communicated  to  him, 
exclaimed,  "  I  have  often  heard  of  castles  in  the  air,  but  never 
before  was  shown  where  any  of  them  were  to  be  erected."  Such 
a  self-sufficient  ignoramus  was  properly  estimated  by  the  duke ; 
he  disregarded  his  opinion,  and  directed  Brindley  to  proceed. 
The  Worsley  canal  was  soon  in  successful  operation ;  the  impos- 
sible aqueduct  was  begun  and  completed  in  twelve  months. 

This  triumphant  demonstration  was  the  making  of  Brindley  as 
an  engineer,  and  at  no  distant  period  turned  the  attention  of  the 
public  to  the  subject  of  opening  water  communication  with  various 
parts  of  the  kingdom.  The  Duke  of  Bridgewater  immediately  de- 
termined to  continue  his  canal  to  the  tideway  of  the  Mersey,  at 


498  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

Runcorn,  so  as  to  connect  Liverpool  and  Manchester  by  water 
in  a  thoroughly  practical  way.  The  distance  to  be  accomplished 
was  thirty  miles,  and  there  were  two  rivers  and  many  deep  and 
wide  valleys  to  be  crossed,  the  one  by  aqueducts,  the  other  by 
broad  and  lofty  embankments.  Notwithstanding  these  obstacles, 
the  undertaking  was  completed  in  five  years.  There  were  but 
ten  locks  on  the  whole  line,  and  these  were  constructed  on  such 
easy  principles  that  they  could  be  worked  with  little  or  no  delay. 
The  next  in  order  to  the  Bridgewater  canals  was  that  which  the 
proprietors  designed  to  call  the  Trent  and  Mersey  Canal,  but  to 
which  Brindley  gave  the  name  of  the  Grand  Trunk,  because  he 
was  convinced  that  many  branches  would  be  extended  from  it,  as 
was  subsequently  the  case.  This  wo*rk  was  ninety-three  miles 
in  length,  united  the  ports  of  Hull  and  Liverpool,  and  required 
seventy-six  locks,  three  aqueducts,  and  five  tunnels  to  carry  it 
through  the  route.  Here  was  an  opportunity  for  the  display  of 
the  highest  engineering  skill,  and  Brindley  availed  himself  of  it 
with  avidity.  An  eminence  called  Harecastle  Hill  was  considered 
the  great  obstacle  of  the  line.  Brindley  made  up  his  mind  that  it 
should  be  tunneled,  and,  notwithstanding  innumerable  difficulties, 
arising  from  the  nature  of  the  soil,  succeeded  in  boring  the  hill  at 
the  distance  of  seventy  yards  from  the  surface.  The  tunnel  is 
more  than  a  mile  and  a  half  long. 

Now  that  the  entire  practicability  of  canal  navigation  had  been 
fully  established,  Brindley  found  himself  overwhelmed  with  busi- 
ness. His  enthusiasm  led  him  to  undertake  more  than  he  could 
well  attend  to  without  encroaching  on  his  constitution.  He  was 
destined  to  fall  a  martyr  to  the  cause  in  which  he  was  engaged. 
For  some  years  previous  to  his  death  he  suffered  constantly  from 
intermittent  fever,  aggravated,  of  course,  by  frequent  exposure  to 
moist,  unwholesome  atmospheres.  His  system  became  complete- 
ly worn  out,  and  on  the  27th  of  September,  1772,  he  died,  in  the 
fifty-sixth  year  of  his  age. 

The  character  of  Brindley  was  quiet,  modest,  and  unassuming. 
Devoted  entirely  to  his  occupations,  and  accustomed  to  find  every 
resource  within  himself,  he  did  not  cultivate  society,  or  feel  much 
at  home  in  it.  His  appearance  was  rather  against  him  than  oth- 
erwise, being  boorish  and  provincial ;  but  his  conversation  is  de- 
scribed as  pleasing,  and  strongly  colored  with  the  warm  imagina- 
tion of  a  man  who  would  not  see  an  impossibility.  During  the 
latter  years  of  his  life,  his  whole  soul  was  absorbed  in  specula- 


JAMES  BKINDLEY.  499 

tions  respecting  canals ;  he  meditated  on  them  not  only  by  day, 
but  dreamed  of  them  by  nigh*.  Most  of  his  schemes  were  remark- 
able'for  their  vastness  and  practicability,  but,  in  common  with 
other  ingenious  men,  he  had  his  wild  dreams  of  the  impracticable. 
To  this  order  belonged  his  scheme  for  uniting  Ireland  to  England 
by  means  of  a  navigable  canal.  He  had  such  faith  in  aqueducts 
that  he  believed  even  the  sea  might  be  spanned  by  them.  A  funny 
circumstance  is  recorded  concerning  the  fixity  of  his  ideas  on  these 
subjects.  While  he  was  under  examination  before  a  committee 
of  the  House  of  Commons,  he  spoke  so  slightingly  of  rivers  that 
a  member  asked  him  for  what  purpose  he  supposed  them  to  have 
been  created.  "To  feed  navigable  canals,"  replied  Brindley. 
Once,  and  but  once  in  his  life,  he  saw  a  play.  It  happened  while 
he  was  in  London,  and  for  several  days  afterward  he  complained 
that  it  had  confused  his  ideas  and  unfitted  him  for  business.  So 
strong  and  disagreeable  was  the  effect  produced,  that  he  declared 
nothing  on  earth  should  ever  induce  him  to  see  another  play. 

When  any  extraordinary  difficulty  occurred  to  Mr.  Brindley 
in  the  execution  of  his  works,  having  little  or  no  assistance  from 
books,  or  the  labors  of  other  men,  his  resources  lay  within  him- 
self. In  order,  therefore,  to  be  quiet  and  uninterrupted  while  he 
was  in  search  of  the  necessary  expedients,  he  generally  retired  to 
his  bed ;  and  he  has  been  known  to  lie  there  one,  two,  or  three 
days,  till  he  had  attained  the  object  in  view.  He  would  then 
get  up,  and  execute  his  design  without  any  drawing  or  model. 
Indeed,  it  never  was  his  custom  to  make  either,  unless  he  was 
obliged  to  do  it  to  satisfy  his  employers.  His  memory  was  so  re- 
markable, that  he  often  declared  he  could  remember  and  execute 
all  the  parts  of  the  most  complex  machine,  provided  he  had  time, 
in  his  survey  of  it,  to  settle  in  his  mind  the  several  departments, 
and  their  relations  to  each  other.  His  method  of  calculating  the 
powers  of  any  machine  invented  by  him  was  peculiar  to  himself. 
He  worked  the  question  for  some  time  in  his  head,  and  then  put 
down  the  results  in  figures.  After  this,  taking  it  up  again  in  this 
stage,  he  worked  it  further  in  his  mind  for  a  certain  time,  and  set 
down  the  results  as  before.  In  the  same  way  he  still  proceeded, 
making  use  of  figures  only  at  stated  periods  of  the  question.  Yet 
the  ultimate  result  was  generally  true,  though  the  road  he  trav- 
eled in  search  of  it  was  unknown  to  any  one  but  himself;  and 
perhaps  it  would  not  have  been  in  his  power  to  have  shown  it  to 
another. 


THOMAS    HOLCROFT 

was  the  son  of  a  shoemaker,  and  was  born  in  London  on  the 
10th  of  December,  1745.  The  paternal  Holcroft  was,  in  many 
respects,  a  remarkable  character.  He  possessed  a  passion  for 
making  experiments  in  all  sorts  of  businesses ;  he  dealt  in  greens 
and  oysters  as  well  as  shoes,  and,  finding  that  this  was  not  suffi- 
cient, he  added  the  undignified  calling  of  horse-dealer.  For  this 
latter  business  he  conceived  a  strong  affection,  which  manifested 
itself  in  an  ardent  desire  to  teach  Master  Thomas  to  ride.  When 
the  latter  was  very  young,  his  father  discarded  his  petticoats,  and 
placed  him  in  pantaloons,  in  order  that  he  might  straddle  a  horse 
in  the  proper  way.  One  accomplishment  led  to  another.  The 
elder  Holcroft  conceived  a  fresh  notion  that  his  son  was  a  great 
musical  genius,'and  immediately  placed  him  under  the  tuition  of 
a  violin  player.  What  progress  he  made  in  the  instrument  is 
unknown,  but  he  says  himself  that  at  the  age  of  seven  he  had 
wholly  forgotten  all  he  had  learned. 

About  this  time  a  change  took  place  in  his  father's  circum- 
stances, and  he  left  London  in  great  embarrassment.     The  fam- 


THOMAS  HOLCROFT.  501 

ily  removed  to  Berkshire,  where  Thomas  obtained  a  small  amount 
of  schooling.  This  was  the  most  remarkable  era  in  his  life,  and 
lie  notes  it  with  enthusiasm.  He  made  such  rapid  progress,  and 
gave  such  extraordinary  evidence  of  a  remarkable  memory,  that 
his  father  was  completely  astonished,  and  made  himv  a  show-child. 
He  imposed  heavy  tasks  on  him  too,  and  set  him  eleven  chapters 
of  the  Bible  to  learn  every  day.  A  neighboring  farmer  caught 
the  youth  with  his  Bible  in  his  hand,  and  asked  him  if  he  could 
read  already.  Holcroft  answered  yes,  began  at  the  place  where 
the  book  was  open,  read  fluently,  and  afterward  told  him  that, 
if  he  pleased,  he  should  hear  the  te'nth  chapter  of  Nehemiah. 
At  this  the  farmer  seemed  still  more  amazed,  and,  wishing  to  be 
convinced,  bade  him  read.  After  listening  till  he  found  he  could 
really  pronounce  the  uncouth  Hebrew  names  so  much  better  and 
more  easily  than  he  supposed  to  be  within  the  power  of  so  young 
a  child,  he' patted  his  head,  gave  him  a  penny,  and  said  he  was 
an  uncommon  boy.  "  It  would  be  hard  to  say,"  writes  Holcroft, 
"  whether  his  praise  or  his  gift  was  the  most  flattering  to  me." 

After  a  short  residence  in  Berkshire,  Holcroft's  family  led  a 
wandering  sort  of  life,  and  eventually  settled  once  more  in  Lon- 
don, in  very  straitened  circumstances.  So  poor  were  they,  in- 
deed, that  Mrs.  Holcroft  had  to  turn  peddler,  and  vended  pins,  nee- 
dles, tape,  etc.,  through  the  streets,  accompanied  by  her  son,  who 
trotted  after  her.  Notwithstanding  these  exertions,  it  seemed 
impossible  to  make  a  living  in  the  metropolis,  and  the  family 
started  on  a  peddling  tour  through  the  provinces.  They  came  at 
length  to  a  village  which  Holcroft  thought  remarkably  clean,  and 
which  Mr.  Holcroft  pronounced  to  be  the  handsomest  in  the  king- 
dom. "  We  must  have  been  very  poor  at  this  time,"  says  the  au- 
thor, "  for  it  was  here  that  I  was  sent  one  day  by  myself  to  beg 
from  house  to  house.  Young  as  I  was,  I  had  considerable  readi- 
ness in  making  out  a  story,  and  on  this  day  my  little  inventive 
faculties  shone  forth  with  much  brilliancy.  I  told  one  story  at 
one  house,  and  another  at  another,  and  continued  to  vary  my  tale 
just  as  the  suggestions  arose.  The  consequence  was,  I  moved 
the  good  people  exceedingly.  One  called  me  a  poor  fatherless 
child  ;  another  exclaimed,  '  What  a  pity !  I  had  so  much  sense ;' 
a  third  patted  me  on  the  head,  and  prayed  God  to  bless  me,  that 
I  might  make  a  good  man.  The  result  of  this  expedition  was 
that  I  bro'ught  away  as  much  as  I  could  carry  to  the  place  of 


502  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

rendezvous  appointed  by  my  parents.  There  I  astonished  them 
by  again  reciting  the  false  tales  I  had  so  readily  invented.  My 
lather  seemed  greatly  alarmed,  and,  fearing  that  I  was  in  danger 
of  growing  up  a  liar  and  a  vagrant,  declared  I  should  never  go  on 
such  errands  again."  It  was  fortunate  for  Holcroft  that  he  had 
such  a>  father.  Indeed,  this  parent,  although  eccentric  in  the  ex- 
treme, and  of  decidedly  vagrant  habits,  was  a  good  man,  and  at 
all  times  and  in  all  places  made  his  son  repeat  his  prayers  and 
catechism  morning  and  night,  and  on  Sundays  read  the  prayer- 
book  and  Bible.  He  was  fond  of  exercising  his  son's  memory. 
On  one  occasion,  a  copy  of  Yhe  celebrated  ballad,  "  Chevy  Chase," 
came  into  his  possession.  "  Well,  Tom,  can  you  get  that  song  by 
heart "?"  he  asked.  The  boy  replied  yes,  and  was  then  promised 
a  bribe  of  a  halfpenny  if  he  committed  it  in  three  days.  The  task 
was  performed  (like  many  others  of  a  similar  kind),  and  Tom  be- 
came a  wealthy  man  in  his  own  estimation. 

The  next  business  in  which  we  find  Mr.  Holcroft  was  that  of 
carrier.  He  procured  two  or  three  asses,  and  Tom  was  set  to 
drive  them  from  place  to  place.  In  this  employment  he  suffered 
many  hardships  and  privations.  The  bad  nourishment  he  met 
with,  the  cold  and  wretched  manner  in  which  he  was  clothed, 
and  the  excessive  weariness  he  endured  in  following  the  animals 
day  after  day,  and  being  obliged  to  drive  creatures  perhaps  still 
more  weary  than  himself,  were  miseries  much  too  great  for  his  lit- 
tle heart,  and  filled  it  with  sorrows  which  he  remembered  poign- 
antly years  and  years  afterward.  At  times  he  had  to  travel  great 
distances  on  foot,  and  in  one  instance  walked  thirty  miles.  When 
near  the  end  of  this  wearisome  journey,  his  little  legs  refused  to 
carry  him  farther,  and  a  kind  countryman  picked  him  up  -and 
carried  him  to  his  destination. 

When  he  was  about  twelve  years  of  age  he  obtained  a  situation 
as  stable-boy  at  Newmarket,  and  entered  on  what  he  calls  "  a  new 
existence."  Being  new  to  the  trade,  a  good  many  tricks  were 
played  off  on  him.  "I  do  not  recollect  one  half  of  the  tricks  that 
are  played  off  upon  new-comers,"  he  writes,  "but  that  with  which 
they  begin,  if  I  do  not  mistake,  is  to  persuade  their  victim  that 
the  first  thing  necessary  for  a  well-trained  stable-boy  is  to  borrow 
as  many  vests  as  he  can,  and  in  the  morning,  after  he  has  dressed 
and  fed  his  horse,  to  put  them  all  on,  take  a  race  of  two  or  three 
miles,  return  home,  strip  himself  stark  naked,  and  immediately 


THOMAS  HOLCKOFT.  503 

be  covered  up  in  a  warm  dunghill,  which  is  the  method,  they 
assure  him,  which  the  grooms  take  when  they  sweat  themselves 
down  to  ride  a  race.  Should  the  poor  fellow  follow  these  direc- 
tions, they  conclude  the  joke  with  pails  full  of  cold  water,  which 
stand  ready  for  the  purpose  of  cooling  off.  Another  of  their  diver- 
sions used  to  be  that  of  hunting  the  owl.  To  hunt  the  owl  is  to 
persuade  a  booby  that  there  is  an  owl  found  at  roost  in  a  comer 
of  the  farm ;  that  a  ladder  must  be  placed  against  a  hole,  through 
which,  when  the  persons  shall  be  pleased  to  hoot  and  hunt  him, 
as  they  call  it,  he  must  necessarily  fly,  as  the  door  is  shut,  and 
every  other  outlet  closed ;  that  the  boy  selected  to  catch  the  owl 
must  mount  the  ladder  on  the  outside,  and  the  purblind  animal, 
they  say,  will  fly  directly  into  his  hat.  The  poor  candidate  for 
sport  mounts  to  his  place,  thoughtless  of  any  thing  but  fun.  The 
chaps  within,  laughing  and  shouting,  pretend  to  drive  the  ill-starred 
bird  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  hole,  when  all  at  once  they  discharge 
the  contents  of  pails  and  tubs  upon  the  devoted  head  of  the  expect- 
ing owl-catcher,  who  is  generally  precipitated  in  fright  and  terror 
from  the  ladder  into  some  soft,  but  not  very  agreeable  preparation 
below."  Against  these  traps  for  the  unwary  young  Holcroft  re^ 
ceived  timely  warning,  and  averted  their  dire  effects.  He  remain- 
ed in  this  employment  for  upward  of  three  years.  The  life  of  a 
stable-boy  in  a  sporting  town  is  not  calculated  to  develop  any 
latent  literary  ability  that  he  may  happen  to  possess,  but  young 
Holcroft  found  time  to  read  a  few  books.  Swift  and  Addison 
afforded  him  much  delight,  and  books  of  piety,  if  the  author  were 
but  inspired  with  zeal,  fixed  his  attention  wherever  he  met  with 
them.  John  Bunyan  he  ranked  among  the  most  divine  authors 
he  had  ever  read.  He  contrived  to  improve  his  education  too, 
and  out  of  his  scanty  income  (four  pounds  a  year)  paid  five  shil- 
lings a  quarter  for  singing  lessons,  and  five  shillings  a  quarter  for 
instruction  in  arithmetic.  The  former  he  practiced  in  a  hayloft, 
the  latter  he  studied  with  an  old  nail  and  the  back  of  the  stable 
door. 

In  the  mean  time  Mr.  Holcroft  had  established  himself  in  Lon- 
don, and  was  once  more  at  work  in  his  cobbler's  stall.  Tom 
made  up  his  mind  to  abandon  stable-life  and  repair  to  the  me- 
tropolis. He  despised  his  companions  for  the  grossness  of  their 
ideas,  and  the  total  absence  of  every  pursuit  in  which  the  mind 
had  any  share.  The  little  knowledge  he  possessed  exposed  him 


504  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

to  their  ridicule :  this  he  could  avoid  in  the  quiet  shop  of  his  fa- 
ther. He  carried  out  his  idea ;  arrived  in  London,  learned  his 
father's  business,  and  became  an  expert  workman.  He  could 
command  the  highest  wages,  but  did  not  become  rich.  Every 
penny  he  could  spare  was  spent  in  the  purchase  of  books,  and  a 
great  deal  of  time  was  consumed  in  mastering  their  contents. 

In  1765  Mr.  Holcroft  married,  and  soon  after  opened  a  school 
for  teaching  children  to  read  in  Liverpool.  Not  being  successful 
in  this  undertaking,  he  abandoned  it,  and  returned  to  London. 
Once  more  he  resumed  the  shoemaking  business ;  but  its  sedentary 
nature  injured  his  health,  and  brought  on  a  return  of  his  old  en- 
emy, asthma,  a  complaint  with  which  he  had  been  troubled  from 
youth.  He  was  compelled  to  quit  the  bench,  and  seek  other  and 
more  congenial  employment.  With  this  object  in  view,  he  repeat- 
ed his  Liverpool  experiment  and  opened  a  school,  but  with  no 
better  luck.  After  living  three  months  on  potatoes  and  butter- 
milk, and  having  only  one  scholar,  he  discontinued  his  labors. 
About  this  time  he  commenced  his  literary  career.  A  few  es- 
says from  his  pen  found  their  way  into  the  Evening  Post,  and  the 
editor  paid  him  for  them  at  the  rate  of  five  shillings  a  column  ; 
not  a  large  remuneration,  but  grateful  to  the  feelings  and  wel- 
come to  the  pocket  of  the  young  author.  His  means  were  now 
at  their  lowest  ebb,  and  he  was  compelled  to  take  a  situation  in 
the  family  of  Granville  Sharpe.  He  did  not  retain  this  long,  for 
his  habits  were  not  the  habits  of  a  servant.  Thrown  out  of  em- 
ployment, and  reduced  to  a  state  of  the  extremest  poverty,  he  was 
on  the  point  of  embarking  for  British  India  as  a  common  soldier 
in  the  ranks  of  the  Indian  army,  when  a  friend  persuaded  him  to 
join  a  band  of  strolling  players.  With  this  company  he  traversed 
Ireland,  where  he  first  appeared  on  the  stage,  and  every  part  of 
England.  His  success  was  not  extraordinary,  and,  as  a  general 
thing,  he  received  more  censure  than  praise  ;  but,  for  want  of  bet- 
ter employment,  he  continued  in  the  profession  for  seyen  or  eight 
years,  suffering  much  misery,  and  at  times  almost  reduced  to  a 
state  of  starvation.  Only  one  advantage  accrued  from  his  con- 
nection with  the  players :  he  was  able  to  prosecute  a  successful 
course  of  reading,  and  make  himself  extensively  acquainted  with 
English  literature.  What  was  of  immediate  advantage  to  him 
was  the  acquaintance  he  succeeded  in  forming  with  Garrick,  the 
famous  actor,  and  Mrs.  Siddons.  With  such  associations,  his 


THOMAS  HOLCROFT.  505 

thoughts  naturally  took  one  direction.  He  became  ambitious  to 
write  for  the  stage.  Some  early  compositions,  of  little  merit, 
were  favorably  received,  and  he  persevered.  A  farce,  called  the 
"  Crisis,"  achieved  a  decided  success,  and  from  this  time  he  con- 
tinued to  apply  himself  unceasingly  to  literary  pursuits.  He  be- 
came eminent  as  a  dramatist,  and  wrote  extensively  for  the  book- 
sellers. In  the  interest  of  the  latter  he  Avent  to  France,  and  made 
several  translations  of  works  which  he  selected  for  the  purpose. 
His  knowledge  of  the  French  language  and  of  German,  howsoever 
picked  up,  was  perfect.  Among  the  important  works  which  he 
translated  were  the  writings  of  Frederick  the  Great,  in  twelve  large 
volumes,  and  the  curious  and  entertaining  w.orks  of  Lavater,  the 
celebrated  physiognomist  of 'Germany.  His  contributions  to  the 
stage  were  numerous,  and  one  work  in  particular,  "  The  Road  to 
Ruin,"  carried  his  fame  to  all  corners  of  the  world  where  the  En- 
glish language  was  spoken.  It  is  a  favorite  with  American  au- 
diences to  the  present  day,  and  is  a  commendable  work  in  every 
respect. 

During  his  stay  in  France  Mr.  Holcroft  imbibed  much  of  the 
liberalism  of  the  day,  and  when  he  returned  to  England  became 
an  active  reformer.  He  wrote  much  for  the  people,  and  contrib- 
uted largely  to  the  alarm  of  the  government — an  alarm  which  re- 
sulted in  the  suspension  of  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act  (1794).  Infor- 
mations were  filed  against  Holcroft  and  eleven  of  his  associates, 
and  they  were  seized  and  committed  to  the  Tower  to  await  their 
trial  on  a  charge  of  high  treason.  In  October  the  trials  came  on 
at  the  Old  Bailey.  The  day  had  arrived  when  the  great  ques- 
tion whether  the  people  were  to  have  any  share  in  the  govern- 
ment, even  to  speak  against  its  abuse  or  in  favor  of  its  reform, 
was  to  be  decided.  Thomas  Hardy,  a  celebrated  English  demo- 
crat, was  the  first  placed  in  the  dock.  Mr.  Erskine  was  his  coun- 
sel, and  for  seven  hours  he  harangued  the  jury  with  matchless 
eloquence.  "  I  claim  no  merit  with  the  prisoner  for  my  zeal,"  he 
said,  in  his  peroration  ;  "  it  proceeds  from  a  selfish  principle  inhe- 
rent in  the  human  heart.  I  am  counsel,  gentlemen,  for  myself. 
In  every  word  I  utter,  I  feel  that  I  am  pleading  for  the  safety  of 
my  own  life,  for  the  lives  of  my  children  after  me,  for  the  happi- 
ness of  my  country,  and  for  the  universal  condition  of  civil  soci- 
ety throughout  the  world."  Excitement  was  at  its  height,  and 
the  crown  yielded.  The  prisoners  were  ordered  to  be  set  at  lib- 

Y 


506  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

erty ;  "  the  acclamations  of  the  Old  Bailey  reverberated  from  the 
farthest  shores  of  Scotland,  and  a  whole  people  felt  the  enthusi- 
astic transports  of  recovered  freedom."  Holcroft  continued  his 
efforts  in  the  cause  of  constitutional  reform  without  farther  mo- 
lestation. . 

The  remainder  of  Holcroft's  life  was  passed  in  arduous  literary 
labor.  He  visited  Hamburg  and  Paris,  where  he  made  researches 
in  various  departments  of  letters.  In  the  latter  capital  he  re- 
mained about  two  years,  and  subsequently  published  an  elaborate 
work  concerning  it,  which  enjoys  a  high  position  in  literature. 
He  was  methodical  and  industrious,  and  accomplished  great  tasks 
with  ease  and  completeness.  His  mental  activity  was  extraordi- 
nary— so  excessive,  at  times,  that  it  interfered  with  his  general 
health  ;  but  his  intellect  remained  unimpaired  to  the  last,  and  he 
died  in  March,  1804,  in  his  sixty-ninth  year.  The  life  of  Thom- 
as Holcroft  is  calculated  (we  quote  his  own  words)  "to  excite  an 
ardent  emulation  in  the  breasts  of  youthful  readers,  by  showing 
them  how  difficulties  may  be  endured,  how  they  may  be  over- 
come, and  how  they  may  at  last  contribute,  as  a  school  of  instruc- 
tion, to  bring  forth  hidden  talent." 


EGBERT    BLOOMFIELD, 

who  has  been  described  as  the  "most  spiritual  shoemaker  that 
ever  handled  an  awl,"  was  born  in  the  county  of  Suffolk,  England, 
in  the  year  of  freedom,  1776.  His  parents  Avere  in  extremely  poor 
circumstances,  and  at  an  early  age  his  father  died.  To  provide 
the  means  of  support  for  herself  and  children,  Mrs.  Bloomfield 
opened  a  small  school  in  the  village,  and  it  was  under  her  roof 
that  Eobert  gained  most  of  the  knowledge  he  possessed.  For  a 
few  months  he  went  to  an  academy  of  a  better  kind,  but  a  single 
quarter  was  probably  the  extent  of  his  course. 

When  Robert  was  eleven  years  of  age  he  went  to  live  with  his 
uncle,  Mr.  Austin,  a  reputable  farmer,  who  treated  him  kindly, 
but  paid  him  no  wages.  His  mother  supplied  him  with  clothes 
so  long  as  she  was  able,  but  was  at  length  compelled  to  look  to 
two  elder  sons,  who  were  shoemakers  in  London,  to  assist  her. 
She  accordingly  wrote  to  them  upon  the  subject,  and  it  was  at 
length  resolved  that  Robert  should  go  to  London,  where  one 
brother  promised  to  initiate  him  into  the  mysteries  of  St.  Crispin, 


508  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

and  the  other  to  clothe  and  support  him  until  he  was  able  to  gain 
his  own  living.  The  mother  was  pleased  with  this  arrangement, 
and  made  a  pilgrimage  to  great  smoky  Ixmdon  in  order  to  place 
her  darling  boy  in  the  custody  of  his  elder  brothers.  She  charged 
them,  as  they  valued  a  mother's  blessing,  to  set  good  examples  for 
him,  and  "never  to  forget  that  he  had  lost  his  father." 

The  brothers  were  in  humble  circumstances,  and  lodged  and 
labored  in  a  little  garret,  which  served  them  for  every  purpose. 
"  As  we  were  all  single  men  lodgers  at  a  shilling  per  week,  our 
beds  were  coarse,  and  all  things  far  from  being  clean  and  snug, 
like  what  Robert  had  been  accustomed  to  at  home.  Robert  was 
our  man  to  fetch  all  things  to  hand.  At  noon  he  brought  our 
dinners  from  the  cook-shop,  and  any  one  of  our  fellow-workmen 
that  wanted  to  have  any  thing  brought  in  would  send  Robert,  and 
assist  in  his  work,  and  teach  him,  as  a  recompense  for  his  trouble. 
Every  day,  when  the  boy  from  the  public  house  came  for  the  pew- 
ter pots,  and  to  learn  what  porter  was  wanted,  he  always  brought 
the  yesterday's  newspaper.  The  reading  of  this  newspaper  we 
had  heen  used  to  take  by  turns,  but,  after.  Robert  came,  he  mostly 
read  for  us,  because  his  time  was  of  the  least  value."  The  task 
was  an  agreeable  one,  but  not  unattended  with  difficulty.  The 
little  fellow  tumbled  across  words  which  he  had  never  read  before, 
and  which  bothered  him  immensely.  His  brother  George  took 
compassion  on  his  perplexity,  and  bought  a  Dictionary,  for  which 
he  paid  the  enormous  sum  of  fourpence.  Robert  soon  became 
master  of  its  contents,  and  was  able  to  read  the  newspaper  with- 
out impediment.  He  was  considered  so  good  that  the  workmen 
got  books  for  him  to  read  to  them.  "  I,  at  this  time,"  says  George 
Bloomfield,  "  read  the  London  Magazine,  and  in  that  work  about 
two  Sheets  were  set  apart  for  a  review.  Robert  seemed  always 
eager  to  read  this  review.  Here  he  could  see  what  the  literary 
men  were  doing,  and  learn  how  to  judge  of  the  merits  of  the 
works  which  came  out,  and  I  observed  that  he  always  looked  at 
the  Poet's  Corner.  One  day  he  repeated  a  long  song  which  he  had 
composed  to  an  old  tune.  I  was  much  surprised  that  he  should 
make  such  smooth  verses,  so  I  persuaded  him  to  try  whether  the 
editor  of  our  paper  would  give  them  a  place  in  the  Poet's  Corner. 
He  succeeded,  and  they  were  printed."  After  this  success  he 
contributed  a  number  of  pieces  to  the  same  magazine,  and  felt  all 
the  exaltation  which  a  young  author  may  be  expected  to  expe- 


ROBERT  BLOOMFIELD.  509 

rience  under  such  Circumstances.  His  mind  seemed  to  act  with 
redoubled  activity,  and  his  powers  increased  with  every  fresh  ef- 
fort, as  the  true  literary  mind  is  sure  to  do. 

Shortly  after  this  Robert  changed  his  lodgings,  and  was  thrown 
into  the  society  of  a  man  of  the  name  of  Kay,  who,  being  a  read- 
er himself,  possessed  several  books,  among  which  were  "  The  Sea- 
sons," "  Paradise  Lost,"  and  some  novels.  The  first  was  Robert's 
especial  delight,  and  he  perused  and  reperused  it  until  he  had  it 
nearly  by  heart.  It  was  to  this  work  that  he  was  indebted  for 
his  idea  of  the  "Farmer's  Boy,"  a  poem  to  which  Bloomfield 
owes  his  reputation.  In  his  eighteenth  year  he  paid  a  visit  to  his 
native  place,  and  the  tutored  eye  of  the  poet  discovered  new  beau- 
ties in  the  scenes  which  had  surrounded  him  from  youth,  arid 
which  came  back  to  him  with  a  freshness  and  vigor  indescribable. 
He  returned  to  London,  and  subsided  for  a  while  into  his  usual 
occupations.  He  made  an  arrangement  with  the  landlord  of  his 
brothers,  who  was  also  a  shoemaker,  and  became  his  apprentice. 
Not  only  did  he  apply  himself  diligently  to  the  duties  of  his  sta- 
tion, but  with  some  enthusiasm.  He  became  an  excellent  work- 
man, and  worked  hard  for  many  years.  His  amusements  were 
reading,  music,  and  the  composition  of  verses. 

Being  now  in  a  position  to  marry,  he  selected  an  appropriate 
helpmate  and  removed  to  Coleman  Street,  where,  in  the  garret, 
he  followed  his  trade,  as  one  among  many  journeymen.  There, 
amid  the  din  of'hammers  and  voices,  the  noise  and  confusion  of 
thoughtless  men,  the  jokes  and  sneers  of  the  illiterate,  Robert 
Bloomfield  composed  his  great  poem,  the  "  Farmer's  Boy."  Hav- 
ing no  facilities  for  writing,  he  composed  and  remembered  about 
six  hundred  lines  before  he  put  a  single  word  to  paper.  At  length 
the  manuscript  was  finished,  and  the  author,  palpitating' with 
anxiety,  commenced  his  tour  of  the  publishers,  but  no  one  would 
undertake  its  publication.  The  obscurity  of  the  author  and  the 
length  of  the  poem  alike  contributed  to  this  result.  The  editor 
of  the  "  Monthly  Magazine"  gives  the  following  account  of  Rob- 
ert's visit  to  his  office  :  "  He  brought  his  poem  to  our  office,  and, 
though  his  unpolished  appearance,  his  coarse  handwriting,  and 
wretched  orthography  afforded  no  prospect  that  his  production 
could  be  printed,  yet  he  found  attention  by  his  repeated  calls,  and 
by  the  humility  of  his  expectations,  which  were  limited  to  half  a 
dozen  copies  of  the  Magazine.  At  length,  on  his  name  being 


510  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

mentioned  where  a  literary  gentleman,  particularly  conversant  in 
rural  economy,  happened  to  be  present,  the  poem  was  finally  ex- 
amined, and  its  general  aspect  excited  the  risibility  of  that  gen- 
tleman in  so  pointed  a  manner,  that  Bloomfield  was  called  into 
the  room,  and  exhorted  not  to  waste  his  time  and  neglect  his  em- 
ployment in  making  vain  attempts,  and  particularly  in  treading 
on  ground  which  Thomson  had  sanctified.  His  earnestness  and 
confidence,  however,  led  the  editor  to  advise  him  to  consult  his 
countryman,  Mr.  Capel  Lofft,  to  whom  he  gave  him  a  letter  of 
introduction.  On  his  departure,  the  gentleman  present  warmly 
complimented  the  editor  on  the  sound  advice  which  he  had  given 
the  poor  fellow,  and  it  was  naturally  conceived  that  an  industri- 
ous man  was  thereby  likely  to  be  saved  from  a  ruinous  infatua- 
tion." 

Undismayed  by  this  cold  treatment,  Bloomfield  hurried  off  with 
his  manuscript  to  Mr.  Loflft.  That  gentleman  took  the  trouble  of 
examining  the  poem,  and  did  not  throw  it  down  with  disgust 
when  he  came  to  a  badly-spelled  word  (stumbling-blocks  of  a  very 
frequent  kind  in  Bloomfield's  manuscript).  Mr.  Lofft  declared 
the  poem  to  be  eminently  worthy  of  publication,  and  exerted  him- 
self in  procuring  a  publisher  so  successfully,  that  Messrs.  Vernor 
and  Hood  purchased  the  manuscript  for  fifty  pounds.  Bloomfield 
was  astonished.  He  had  offered  it  to  the  Monthly  Magazine  for 
five  or  six  copies  of  that  cheerful  publication.  The  poem  made 
its  appearance  in  due  time,  and  achieved  an  immediate  success. 
Several  editions  were  issued  in  rapid  succession,  and  in  a  short 
time  upward  of  twenty-five  thousand  copies  were  disposed  of. 
The  publishers  behaved  generously  to  the  author  (considering  that 
he  had  no  farther  claim  upon  them),  and  presented  him  with  a 
check  for  £200.  In  addition  to  this,  he  received  much  kindness 
from  persons  in  position.  The  Duke  of  Grafton  presented  him 
with  a  life  annuity  of  a  shilling  a  day,  and  obtained  for  him  a  sit- 
uation in  a  government  office  ;  but  ill  health  compelled  him  to 
relinquish  it,  and  return  to  an  avocation  to  which  his  constitu- 
tion had  become  better  accustomed.  Subsequently  he  made  an 
unsuccessful  effort  to  establish  himself  in  the  bookselling  busi- 
ness. By  this  failure  he  lost  the  little  money  he  had  accumu- 
lated, and  was  reduced  to  poverty.  Continued  ill  health  added 
to  his  distress,  and  for  many  long  years  he  dragged  out  a  sickly 
existence,  "  as  miserable,"  says  Professor  Wilson,  "  as  the  exist- 


ROBERT  BLOOMFIELD.  511 

ence  of  a  good  man  can  be  made  by  the  narrowest  circumstances." 
After  much  bodily  suffering,  aggravated  by  the  causes  we  have 
mentioned,  Robert  Bloomfield  died  on  the  19th  of  August,  1823, 
at  the  age  of  fifty-seven  years.  He  left  a  widow  and  four  chil- 
dren, and  debts  to  the  amount  of  £200,  which  sum  was  raised  by 
the  exertions  of  his  benevolent  friends  and  admirers,  among  whom 
was  the  poet-laureate  Southey. 

The  works  of  Bloomfield  are  pervaded  with  the  most  amiable 
and  benevolent  feeling.  In  his  descriptions  he  is  simple,  natural, 
and  pathetic.  He  is  always  alive  to  the  pure  suggestions  of  na- 
ture, and  his  sentiments  are  lofty,  virtuous,  and  healthful,  with- 
out being  strained  and  spasmodic.  English  literature  is  indebted 
to  him  for  one  of  the  finest  poems  illustrative  of  English  rural 
life.  The  merit  of  the  "  Farmer's  Boy"  has  been  recognized  and 
endorsed  by  the  literary  world  in  the  most  ample  manner.  It 
has  been  published  and  republished  in  every  form,  and  maintains 
its  position  to  the  present  day.  An  edition  was  published  in 
Germany  the  year  following  its  first  appearance  in  London.  At 
Paris,  a  translation,  entitled  "Le  Valet  du  Fermier,"  was  made  by 
Etienne  Allard ;  one  was  made  into  Italian  ;  and  in  1805,  an  ex- 
tremely curious  edition  in  Latin  was  published  in  London,  with  the 
title  "  '  Agricolae  Puer,  poema  Roberti  Bloomfield  celeberrimum, 
in  versus  Latinos  redditum,'  auctore  Gulielmo  Clubbe,  LL.D." 
Bloomfield's  subsequent  publications  fully  maintained  the  reputa- 
tion achieved  by  his  first.  In  his  "  Rural  Tales,  Ballads,  and 
Songs,"  his  "  Good  Tidings,  or  News  from  the  Farm,"  his  "  Wild 
Flowers,"  and  his  "Banks  of  the  Wye,"  will  be  found  exquisite 
touches  of  poetic  beauty.  « 


SIB  RICHARD  ARKWRIGHT. 

THREE  quarters  of  a  century  ago,  a  man  was  splendidly  dressed 
if  he  displayed  a  linen  shirt,  and  a  woman  felt  proud  of  her  neat 
ankles  if  she  could  show  them  in  spotless  cotton  hose.  Woolen 
habiliments  were  the  order  of  the  day..  The  nimble  fingers  of 
the  domestic  circle  fabricated  all  that  was  needful  for  the  adorn- 
ment of  the  person.  In  the  long  winter  nights,  the  humming  of 
the  spinning-wheel  was  heard  in  every  cottage  home,  and  tales  of 
love  were  whispered  to  its  music,  and  mighty  meshes  were  thrown 
around  gallant  hearts.  In  those  days,  the  possession  of  a  town- 
bought  skirt  or  coat  was  evidence  of  wealth,  and  the  happy  own- 
er became  the  object  of  public  curiosity.  Critical  damsels  exam- 
ined the  weft  and  the  woof  with  exact  eyes,  and  failed  not,  on  the 
first  opportunity,  to  imitate  their  excellence.  England  was  cele- 
brated then  as  now  for  her  manufactures.  Her  woolen  goods 
were  sent  to  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  were  marvels  of  neatness 
and  durability.  In  1764,  the  total  value  of  exported  English  cot- 
ton goods  was  little  beyond  two  hundred  thousand  pounds,  while 
that  of  woolen  was  more  than  ten  times  the  amount.  In  the 


SIR  RICHARD  ARKWRIGHT.  513 

present  day  the  case  is  precisely  and  wonderfully  reversed.  The 
woolen  manufactures  have  sunk  down  to  comparative  unimport- 
ance, and  the  cotton  manufactures  have  become  the  staple  of  the 
kingdom,  employing  directly  and  indirectly  millions  of  men,  wom- 
en, and  children,  and  yielding  an  enormous  revenue  to  the  country. 

Richard  Arkwright,  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  was  the  illus- 
trious and  memorable  instrument  that  effected  this  great  and  as- 
tonishing change,  and  gave  to  his  country  an  importance  which  it 
is  scarcely  possible  it  would  have  obtained  but  for  his  genius. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century  the  demand  for  cot- 
ton goods  began  to  increase,  and,  owing  to  the  difficulty  of  pro- 
duction, far  exceeded  the  supply.  The  English  cottons  in  those 
days  had  only  the  weft  of  cotton,  the  warp  or  longitudinal  threads 
of  the  cloth  being  of  linen.  No  one  dreamed  of  making  the  latter 
of  cotton,  because,  by  hand-labor,  it  was  impossible  to  make  the 
thread  strong  enough  for  the  purpose.  Notwithstanding,  these 
drawbacks,  the  demand  for  cotton  goods  kept  on  steadily  increas- 
ing. It  was  natural,  therefore,  that  the  manufacturers  should  en- 
deavor to  find  out  a  means  whereby  a  greater  supply  could  be  ob- 
tained with  less  difficulty  and  labor,  and,  consequently,  at  a  less 
expense.  Machinery  was,  of  course,  thought  of,  and  many  inge- 
nious men  set  their  wits  to  work  to  discover  a  way  to  spin  several 
threads  at  one  and  the  same  time,  instead  of  slowly  twisting  a 
thread.  About  the  year  1764,  Mr.  Hargreaves,  a  native  of  Black- 
burn, in  Lancashire,  succeeded  in  producing  a  machine  —  since 
called  the  spinning-jenny — whereby  the  object  desired  could  be 
effected.  For  this  piece  of  ingenuity  Hargreaves  was  rewarded 
by  a  mob,  who  broke  into  his  house  and  destroyed  his  machine. 
The  outrage  was  repeated  several  times,  but  in  the  end  the  spin- 
ning-jenny gained  the  day.  So  far  one  of  the  principal  obstacles 
of  the  manufacture  was  removed;  but  Hargreaves's  invention,  al- 
though highly  valuable,  was  still  insufficient.  It  could  not  give 
to  the  warp  the  hardness  and  firmness  which  it  required,  and 
which  Arkwright  succeeded  in  effecting.  It  is  necessary  to  men- 
tion these  things  before  proceeding  with  our  memoir. 

Richard  Arkwright  was  the  son  of  poor  parents,  and  the  young- 
est of  a  family  of  thirteen.  He  was  born  on  the  23d  of  Decem- 
ber, 1782,  at  Preston,  in  Lancashire,  England.  The  indigent  cir- 
cumstances of  his  parents  rendered  it  impossible  for  them  to  be- 
atow  on  their  son  even  a  simple  education.  It  was  not  until  late 

Y  2 


514  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

in  life  that  he  learned  to  read  and  write.  He  was  brought  up  to 
the  humble  profession  of  barber,  and  established  himself  at  Bol- 
ton.  It  is  probable  that  he  followed  this  vocation  for  many  years. 
The  class  of  customers  he  had  was  not  likely  to  enrich  him  in  a 
very  rapid  manner.  It  is  said  that  he  occupied  an  underground 
cellar,  and  put  up  a  sign  at  the  entrance,  on  which  was  inscribed, 
"Come  to  the  subterraneous  barber;  he  shaves  for  a  penny." 
This  invitation  was  so  attractive  in  those  days  that  his  customers 
became  numerous,  and  the  other  barbers  of  the  place  found  that 
to  compete  with  Arkwright  they  must  reduce  their  prices  to  his 
standard.  Arkwright  was  not  to  be  outdone.  He  made  another 
reduction,  and  startled  the  town  with  the  promise  of  "a  clean 
shave  for  a  halfpenny."  In  the  year  17GO-61  he  gave  up  his  cel- 
lar, and  became  an  itinerant  dealer  in  hair.  Wigs  were  then  gen- 
erally worn,  and  the  immense  quantity  of  hair  which  was  required 
for  them  was  collected  by  men  who  devoted  themselves  to  the 
business,  and  traveled  from  place  to  place.  This  enterprise  turned 
out  a  very  profitable  one,  and  in  a  few  years  he  succeeded  in  col- 
lecting a  little  property.  It  was  something  more  than  good  for- 
tune that  enabled  him  to  do  so.  He  had  succeeded  in  making  a 
new  chemical  hair  dye,  and,  by  using  it  adroitly,  was  able  to  please 
all  his  customers,  and  supply  all  demands.  Arkwright  experi- 
enced no  scarcity  of  peculiar  colors. 

Arkwright  had  a  strong  bent  for  mechanics  ;  and,  now  that  he 
had  a  little  leisure  time  and  sufficient  money,  he  devoted  himself 
to  mechanical  experiments.  They  were,  unfortunately,  directed 
to  a  fallacious  point— the  discovery  of  perpetual  motion — and 
made  such  inroads  into  his  funds  that  in  a  short  time,  although 
a  burgess  of  Preston,  he  was  reduced  to  a  state  of  poverty.  His 
wife,  impatient  at  'what  she  conceived  to  be  a  wanton  waste  of 
time  and  money,  seized  some  of  his  models  and  destroyed  them, 
hoping  thus  to  remove  forever  the  cause  of  their  privations.  She 
committed  a  fatal  error.  Arkwright  could  never  excuse  or  for- 
give such  a  wanton  piece  of  cruelty,  and  shortly  afterward  sep- 
arated from  her  in  consequence  of  it. 

In  1767  Arkwright  became  acquainted  at  Warrington  with  a 
man  named  Kay,  a  clockmaker,  who  assisted  our  hero  in  con- 
structing some  portions  of  his  perpetual  motion  machinery,  and 
afterward  in  making  parts  of  other  machines  to  which  Arkwright's 
attention  was  at  this  time  directed.  His  connection  with  Kay 


SIR  RICHARD  ARKWRIGHT.  515 

turned  out  very  unfortunate,  and  for  a  time  had  an  injurious  ef- 
fect on  his  reputation.  Kay,  many  years  after,  having  been  dis- 
missed from  Arkwright's  employment,  abused  his  employer  in  a 
merciless  manner,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  state,  in  a  court  of 
law,  that  his  so-called  inventions  were  only  plagiarisms  on  inven- 
tions made  by  a  man  named  Highs. 

After  many  mortifications  and  difficulties,  Arkwright  completed 
his  first  cotton  machine,  but,  being  without  money,  he  was  still  at 
a  loss  how  to  bring  it  into  use.  He  determined  on  making  an  ef- 
fort in  his  native  town,  Preston.  To  Preston,  therefore,  he  re- 
paired, and  his  machine  was  fitted  up  in  the  parlor  of  the  gram- 
mar school-house.  To  bring  forward  a  labor-saving  machine  in 
a  town  where  every  man,  woman,  and  child  lived  by  the  exercise 
of  manual  labor,  was  a  dangerous  experiment.  The  fate  of  poor 
Hargreaves  was  before  Arkwright,  and,  as  the  indignation  of  the 
mob  began  to  find  expression,  he  wisely  determined  on  packing  up 
his  machine,  and  carrying  it  to  some  less  dangerous  locality.  In 
company  with  Kay,  our  hero  removed  to  Nottingham.  He  was 
here  fortunate  enough  to  secure  the  co-operation  of  men  of  capi- 
tal, who  were  shrewd  enough  to  see  the  manifold  advantages  of 
his  invention.  A  partnership  was  entered  into  between  Need, 
Strutt,  and  Arkwright,  and  hi  1769  the  "latter  obtained  for  his 
invention  the  expensive  protection  of  letters  patent.  In  later 
years  he  obtained  several  other  patents,  and  it  will  be  well  to  ex- 
plain here  for  what  they  were  obtained.  The  machinery  which 
they  protected  consisted  of  various  parts,  his  second  specification 
enumerating  no  fewer  than  ten  different  contrivances.  The  most 
important  of  these  was  a  device  for  drawing  out  the  cotton  from 
a  coarse  thread  to  one  perfectly  fine  and  hard,  thus  rendering  it 
fit  for  warp  as  well  as  weft.  Nothing  could  be  more  beautiful  or 
more  effective  than  this  contrivance,  which,  with  an  additional 
provision  for  giving  the  proper  twist  to  the  thread,  constitutes 
what  is  called  the  water-frame  or  throstle.  Arkwright  claimed 
this  as  his  own  invention,  admitting,  with  regard  to  some  of  the 
other  parts,  that  he  was  rather  the  improver  than  the  inventor. 
The  original  spinning  machine  for  coarse  thread — called  the  spin- 
ning-jenny— he  acknowledged  to  be  the  invention  of  Hargreaves, 
but  the  water-frame  or  throstle,  and  all  the  other  ingenious  com- 
binations whereby  mechanical  spinning  was  perfected  and  ren- 
dered infallible,  belonged  to  him,  and  he  felt  justified  in  obtain- 


516  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ing  patents  for  them.  Any  one  who  has  been  in  a  cotton  fac- 
tory, and  observed  the  marvelous  precision  with  which  the  deli- 
cately-elaborated machinery  performs  its  various  functions,  can 
understand  what  kind  of  application,  energy,  talent,  and  genius 
were  needed  to  bring  it  to  its  present  perfection.  It  was  not  the 
inspiration  of  a  moment,  but  the  application  of  years  that  tri- 
umphed over  the  roughness  of  mechanical  motion.  Even  after 
he  had  s^ceeded"  in  forming  his  partnership  with  Messrs.  Need 
and  Strutt,  his  success  was  far  from  being  secured.  For  a  long 
time  the  speculation  was  unprofitable  and  disheartening.  He 
tells  us  himself  that  it  did  not  begin  to  pay  till  it  had  been  per- 
severed in  for  five  years,  and  had  swallowed  up  a  cautal  of  more 
than  twelve  thousand  pounds. 

The  first  spinning  machine  on  Arkwright's  plan  was  erected  at 
Nottingham,  and  was  worked  by  horse-power.  This  being  found 
insufficient,  water  was  resorted  to ;  and  in  1771,  a  factory  on  a 
far  larger  scale  than  the  first  was  built  on  the  River  Derwent,  at 
Cromford,  near  Wirksworth,  in  Derbyshire;  from  this  circum- 
stance the  machine  received  its  name  of  the  water-frame  and  the 
thread-water-twist.  Now  commenced  Arkwright's  persecutions. 
While  there  was  nothing  to  be  snatched  from  him,  people  were 
glad  enough  to  give  him  the  hand  of  fellowship ;  but  so  soon  as 
the  halfpenny  barbel'  raised  himself  above  the  commonest  chin, 
every  one  was  ready  to  aim  a  blow  at  him.  The  easiest  way  of 
doing  this  was  to  assail  the  originality  of  his  contrivances,  and  to 
assert  they  were  all  more  or  less  plagiarized  from  others.  The 
Lancashire  cotton  manufacturers  were,  of  course,  anxious  to  over- 
throw Arkwright,  and  to  dispose  of  a  powerful  rival.  They  re- 
fused to  buy  bis  materials,  although  confessedly  the  best  in  the 
market,  and  by  a  series  of  petty  but  vexatious  oppositions,  did 
every  thing  in  their  power  to  make  Arkwright  and  his  associates 
unpopular  with  the  trade,  with  the  public,  and  with  the  working 
community.  In  1779  this  spitefulness  bore  fruits.  The  mob 
rose  in  arms  against  machinery,  and  prowled  about  the  manufac- 
turing districts,  destroying  all  they  could  find.  A  large  mill  built 
by  Arkwright  at  Birkacre,  near  Chorley,  was  destroyed  by  a  mob, 
in  the  presence  of  a  powerful  body  of  police  and  military,  without 
any  of  the  civil  authorities  requiring  their  interference  to  prevent 
the  outrage.  The  inmates  defended  the  mill  as  long  as  they  were 
able,  and  on  the  first  day  drove  the  rioters  back,  with  the  loss  of 


SIR  RICHARD  ARKWRIGHT.  517 

two  men  killed  and  eight  wounded.  It  was  not  till  the  latter  re- 
turned with  greatly  increased  numbers  that  they  accomplished 
their  purpose.  Nor  was  this  the  only  blow  he  suffered.  Man- 
ufacturers who  used  his  machines,  and  paid  for  the  privilege  with 
a  very  ill  grace,  refused  to  do  so  any  longer,  on  the  old  pretext 
that  the  inventions  we*e  not  his.  To  put  a  stop  to  this,  Ark- 
wright, in  1781,  brought  actions  against  the  pirates.  They  de- 
fended themselves  on  the  plea  that  the  specification  of  the  in- 
ventions was  obscure  and  unintelligible,  and  consequently  that  the 
patent  was  void.  No  attempt  was  made  to  show  that  the  in- 
ventions were  not  original.  Their  plea  was  valid  in  law,  and, 
much  to  the  disgust  of  all  right-minded  people,  Arkwright  lost 
the  day.  At  first  he  thought  of  making  an  appeal  to  Parliament ; 
but,  after  preparing  a  case,  which  he  submitted  to  the  public,  he 
abandoned  this  intention,  but  in  1785  brought  another  action 
against  the  infringers  of  his  patent,  and  succeeded  in  getting'  a 
verdict.  The  cotton-spinners,  who  had  been  profiting  by  Ark- 
wright's  genius  without  giving  him  any  thing  in  return,  were 
greatly  incensed.  They  formed  powerful  combinations  against 
what  they  were  pleased  to  call  Arkwright's  monopoly,  and  finally 
commenced  proceedings  against  the  patentee  to  try  the  validity 
of  his  patent.  They  asserted  that  the  patent  was  a  great  incon- 
venience to  the  public ;  that  when  the  patent  was  granted  the  in- 
vention was  not  a  new  one ;  that  the  invention  was  not  Ark- 
wright's, and  that  the  specification  was  imperfect.  The  trial 
lasted  from  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  until  half  past  twelve  at 
night,  and  many  witnesses  were  examined — among  others,  Kay, 
who  «aid  all  he  could  to  injure  his  former  employer.  Principally 
on  the  evidence  of  this  man,  the  jury  returned  a  verdict  annihi^ 
lating  the  patent,  which  Arkwright  tried  in  vain  to  set  aside. 
Thus,  after  years  and  years  of  steady  application  and  thought,  he 
found  himself  thrown  on  the  mercy  of  his  enemies,  destitute  of 
every  kind  of  legal  protection,  and  surrounded  by  men  who  were 
all  too  ready  to  thrust  their  hands  into  his  pockets  and  his  repu- 
tation, and  leave  him  to  perish,  ruined  and  broken-hearted.  But 
his  enemies  were  doomed  to  grievous  disappointment.  Arkwright 
was  made  of  stuff  which  did  not  shrink  with  the  spiteful  sprink- 
ling? of  cold  water.  Goaded  by  injustice,  he  turned  round  on 
his  enemies,  and  astonished  them  by  an  opposition  which  soon 
carried  ever}'  thing  before  it.  In  a  short  time  his  partnership 


518  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

with  Need  and  Strutt  came  to  an  end,  and  the  mill  at  Cromford 
passed  into  his  own  hands.  He  connected  himself  with  other 
manufactories,  and  soon  obtained  such  a  control  of  the  trade  that 
prices  were  fixed  by  him,  and  controlled  all  the  other  cotton-spin- 
ners. "The  most  marked  traits  in  the  character  of  Arkwright," 
says  Mr.  Baines,  "  were  his  wonderful  ardor,  energy,  and  perse- 
verance. He  commonly  labored  in  his  multifarious  concerns  from 
five  in  the  morning  till  nine  at  night ;  and  when  considerably 
more  than  fifty  years  of  age,  feeling  that  the  defects  of  his  educa- 
tion placed  him  under  great  difficulty  and  inconvenience  hi  con- 
ducting his  correspondence  and  in  the  general  management  of  his 
business,  he  encroached  upon  his  sleep  in  order  to  gain  an  hour 
each  day  to  learn  English  grammar,  and  another  hour  to  improve 
his  writing  and  orthography.  He  was  a  severe  economist  of 
time,  and,  that  he  might  not  waste  a  moment,  he  generally  trav- 
eled with  four  horses,  and  at  a  very  rapid  speed.  His  concerns 
in  Derbyshire,  Lancashire,  and  Scotland  were  so  extensive  and 
numerous  as  to  show  at  once  his  astonishing  power  of  transacting 
business,  and  his  all-grasping  spirit.  In  many  of  these  he  had 
partners,  but  he  generally  managed  in  such  a  way  that,  whoever 
lost,  he  himself  was  a  gainer.  So  unbounded  was  his  confidence 
in  the  success  of  his  machinery,  and  in  the  national  wealth  to  be- 
producedby  it,  that  he  would  make  light  of  discussions  on  taxa- 
tion, and*  say  that  he  would  pay  the  national  debt.  His  specula- 
tive schemes  were  vast  and  daring ;  he  contemplated  entering  into 
the  most  extensive  mercantile  transactions,  and  buying  up  all  the 
cotton  in  the  world,  in  order  to  make  an  enormous  profit  by  the 
monopoly." 

A  man  of  such  strength  of  character  requires  but  little  protec- 
tion. When  once  he  has  found  the  path  to  fortune,  he  is  sure  to 
pursue  it  to  the  temple  of  the  goddess.  He  was  able  to  face  all 
opposition,  and  to  reap  a  rich  reward  for  his  ingenuity,  in  spite  of 
the  illiberality  of  the  laws  which  refused  him  protection.  In  1786 
he  was  appointed  high  sheriff  of  Derbyshire,  and  for  delivering  an 
address  to  the  king,  suggested  by  the  escape  of  that  individual  from 
assassination,  received  the  trumpery  honor  of  knighthood,  and  be- 
came Sir  Richard  Arkwright.  He  did  not  long  enjoy  the  distinc- 
tion which  had  thus  fallen  on  him  by  chance.  For  many  years 
he  had  suffered  from  that  terrible  malady,  asthma.  The  seden- 
tary life  which  this  demands,  aggravated  by  incessant  application 


SIE  RICHARD  ARKWRIGHT.  519 

to  business^  brought  on  a  complication  of  disorders,  of  which  he 
died  on  the  3d  of  August,  1792,  in  the  sixtieth  year  of  his  age. 
The  fortune  he  left  behind  is  said  to  have  amounted  to  the  sum 
of  half  a  million  sterling.  Whatever  may  have  been  the  objec- 
tions raised  to  his  inventions  during  his  lifetime,  it  is  now  uni- 
versally conceded  that  Arkwright  succeeded  in  establishing  the 
cotton  manufactures  in  England,  and  in  benefiting  millions  of 
human  beings  by  giving  them  the  means  of  honest  employment. 
He  also  secured  to  his  country  its  most  important  branch  of  com- 
merce by  giving  it  machinery  whereby  it  could  excel  other  coun- 
tries in  production,  excellence,  and  cheapness.  "  No  man,"  just- 
ly observes  Mr.  M'Culloch,  "ever  better  deserved  his  good  for- 
tune, or  has  a  stronger  claim  on  the  respect  and  gratitude  of  pos- 
terity. His  inventions  have  opened  a  new  and  boundless  field  of 
employment ;  and  while  they  have  conferred  infinitely  more  ben- 
efit on  his  native  country  than  she  could  have  derived  from  the 
absolute  dominion  of  Mexico  and  Peru,  they  have  been  univer- 
sally productive  of  wealth  and  enjoyments." 


HENRY    KIEKE    WHITE. 

IT  is  seldom  that  the  life  of  a  poet  affords  so  unalloyed  a  pleas  • 
ure  as  that  furnished  by  the  subject  of  this  sketch.  The  pleasure 
is  in  the  total  absence  of  vice  which  it  presents,  and  not  in  the 
career  of  the  individual,  for  that  was  brief  and  unhappy.  A  more 
chaste  and  admirable  man  never  lived. 

Henry  Kirke  White  was  the  son  of  a  butcher,  and  was  born  at 
Nottingham,  England,  on  the  21st  of  March,  1785.  From  his 
earliest  days  he  displayed  the  susceptibilities  of  a  poetic  tempera- 
ment, and  was  passionately  fond  of  reading.  "  I  could  fancy," 
said  his  eldest  sister,  "  I  see  him  in  his  little  chair,  with  a  large 
book  upon  his  knee,  and  my  mother  calling  '  Henry,  my  love, 
come  to  dinner,'  which  was  repeated  so  often  without  being  re- 
garded that  she  was  obliged  to  change  the  tone  of  her  voice  be- 
fore she  could  rouse  him."  At  the  age  of  six  he  was  placed  under 
the  care  of  the  Rev.  John  Blanchard,  who  kept  the  best  school  in 
Nottingham,  where  he  learned  writing,  arithmetic,  and  French, 
and  he  continued  there  for  several  years.  He  was,  even  in  those 
early  days,  a  remarkable  childj  It  is  said  that,  when  about  seven, 


HENRY  KIRKE  WHITE.  521 

he  was  accustomed  to  go  secretly  into  his  father's  kitchen,  and 
teach  the  servant  to  read  and  write ;  and,  to  encourage  her,  he 
composed  a  tale  of  a  Swiss  emigrant,  which  he  gave  her.  In  his 
eleventh  year  he  wrote  a  separate  theme  for  each  of  the  twelve  or 
fourteen  boys  in  his  class,  and  the  excellence  of  the  various  pieces 
obtained  his  master's  applause. 

Notwithstanding  these  indications  of  intellectual  superiority, 
Henry's  father  insisted  that  he  should  be  brought  up  to  the  butch- 
ering business.  Even  while  he  was  at  school,  one  day  in  eveiy 
week,  and  his  leisure  hours  on  the  others,  were  employed  in  carry- 
ing meat  to  his  father's  customers.  Fortunately,  his  mother  was 
not  enamored  of  her  husband's  business,  and,  seeing  the  natural 
inclinations  of  her  son,  determined  that  they  should  not  be  utterly 
thwarted  by  a  life  which  could  not  fail  to  be  repulsive  to  his  in- 
stincts. The  alternative  which  she  selected  was  scarcely  better 
than  the  evil.  Young  Henry  was  placed  at  a  stocking-loom,  with 
the  view  of  bringing  him  up  to  the  hosiery  business.  His  parents 
were  still  too  poor  to  think  of  giving  him  a  profession.  It  may 
be  easily  imagined  that  this  new  business  failed  to  interest  his 
imagination  or  satisfy  his  taste.  He  could  not  bear  the  idea,  he 
says,  of  spending  some  years  of  his  life  in  shining  and  folding  up 
stockings.  He  poured  his  complaints  into  the  willing  ear  of  his 
mother ;  he  wanted,  he  said,  something  to  occupy  his  brain,  and 
he  should  be  wretched  if  he  continued  longer  at  this  trade,  or, 
indeed,  in  any  thing  except  one  of  the  learned  professions.  In  an 
"Address  to  Contemplation,"  which  he  wrote  at  this  time,  he 
describes  his  feelings : 

"  Why  along 

The  dusky  track  of  commerce  should  I  toil, 
When,  with  an  easy  competence  content, 
I  can  alone  be  happy  where,  with  thee, 
I  may  enjoy  the  loveliness  of  Nature,    ' 
And  loose  the  wings  of  fancy?     Thus  alone 
Can  I  partake  the  happiness  of  earth ; 
And  to  be  happy  here  is  man's  chief  end, 
For  to  be  happy  he  must  needs  be  good." 

He  continued  his  remonstrances  so  earnestly,  and  importuned 
so  incessantly,  that  his  parents  at  length  obtained  his  release  from 
the  hosier's  loom,  and  placed  him  in  the  office  of  Messrs.  Coldham 
&  Enfield,  town  clerk  and  attorneys  of  Nottingham,  some  time  in 


522  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

May,  1799,  he  being  in  his  fifteenth  year  at  the  time.  These 
gentlemen  required  a  premium,  and,  as  his  parents  were  too  poor 
to  pay  the  sum  required,  it  was  agreed  that  he  should  serve  two 
years  before  his  articles  commenced.  A  few  months  after  this 
arrangement  had  been  entered  into,  Kirke  White  wrote  to  his 
brother  in  London,  saying,  "  It  is  now  nearly  four  months  since 
I  entered  into  Mr.  Coldham's  office,  and  it  is  with  pleasure  I  can 
assure  you  that  I  never  yet  found  any  thing  disagreeable,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  every  thing  I  do  seems  a  pleasure  to  me,  and  for  a 
very  obvious  reason — it  is  a  business  which  I  like,  a  business 
which  I  chose  above  all  others ;  and  I  have  two  good-tempered, 
easy  masters,  but  who  will,  nevertheless,  see  that  their  business 
is  done  in  a  neat  and  proper  manner."  "A  man  that  under- 
stands the  law  is  sure  to  have  business ;  and  in  case  I  have  no 
thoughts — in  case,  that  is,  that  I  do  not  aspire  to  hold  the  honor- 
able place  of  a  barrister,  I  shall  feel  sure  of  gaining  a  genteel  live- 
lihood at  the  business  to  which  I  am  articled."  In  his  spare  mo- 
ments at  home  and  at  the  office  he  devoted  his  attention  to  Latin, 
and  in  ten  months  was  able  to  read  Horace  with  tolerable  facility, 
and  had  even  made  some  progress  in  Greek.  Mr.  Southey,  in  his 
admirable  memoir  of  Kirke  White,  gives  an  astounding  account  of 
his  mental  application.  Though  living  with  his  family,  he  nearly 
estranged  himself  from  their  society.  At  meals,  and  during  the 
evenings,  a  book  was  constantly  in  his  hands ;  and  as  he  refused 
to  sup  with  them,  to  prevent  any  loss  of  time,  his  meal  was  sent 
to  him  in  his  little  apartment.  Law,  Greek,  Latin,  Italian,  Span- 
ish, and  Portuguese,  chemistry,  astronomy,  electricity,  drawing, 
music,  and  mechanics,  by  turns  engaged  his  attention,  and,  though 
his  acquirements  in  some  of  these  studies  were  very  superficial, 
his  proficiency  in  many  of  them  was  far  from  contemptible.  His 
papers  on  law  evince  so  much  industry,  that,  had  that  subject 
alone  occupied  his  leisure  hours,  his  diligence  would  have  been 
commendable.  He  was  a  tolerable  Italian  scholar,  and  in  the 
classics  he  afterward  attained  reputation ;  but  of  the  sciences, 
and  of  Spanish  and  Portuguese,  his  knowledge  was. not,  it  may  be 
inferred,  very  great.  His  ear  for  music  was  good,  and,  although 
he  did  not  give  much  attention  to  the  art,  he  could  play  pleasingly 
on  the  piano.  It  is  said  that  he  composed  the  base  as  he  went  on, 
which  probably  means  that,  like  a  good  many  other  performers, 
he  could  do  more  with  one  hand  than  the  other. 


HENRY  KIRKE  WHITE.  523 

A  man  never  devotes  himself  to  intense  study  without  a  wor- 
"thy  object.  White  was  determined  to  break  loose  from  the  fet- 
ters of  iron  fate,  and  to  be  the  architect  of  his  own  fortunes  in 
some  high  sphere  of  human  usefulness.  We  have  seen,  in  his 
letter  to  his  brother,  that  he  already  aimed  at  forensic  distinc- 
tion, as  being  preferable  to  the  drudgery  of  the  attorney's  office. 
He  regarded  the  law  as  a  pursuit  which  might  end  in  riches, 
but  he  had  another  which  he  hoped  would  terminate  in  honor. 
The  Muses  had  been  his  companions  from  earliest  childhood,  and 
he  wooed  them  now  with  the  devotion  of  a  serious,  intelligent 
lover.  The  literary  society  of  his  native  town  was  not  extensive, 
but  it  made  up  for  the  paucity  of  its  members  by  the  dignity  with 
which  they  comported  themselves.  They  formed  a  learned  asso- 
ciation, and  excluded  all  rash  enthusiasts  from  the  privilege  of 
membership.  Several  times  was  White  refused  admission  within 
the  charmed  realms ;  but  at  length  the  Fates  were  propitious,  and 
he  was  appointed  to  the  "  Chair  of  Literature."  White  took  his 
revenge  by  delivering  an  inauguration  address  of  two  hours  and 
three  quarters  in  length. 

A  magazine,  called  the  "  Monthly  Preceptor,"  was  shortly  aft- 
erward established,  which  proposed  prize  themes  for  young  per- 
sons. Kirke  White  tried  his  hand  with  success,  and  carried  off 
several  of  the  prizes.  After  this  he  contributed  to  other  period- 
icals. 

It  was,  as  we  have  said,  his  hope  to  become  a  barrister  or  ad- 
vocate, and  for  this  purpose  he  improved  every  opportunity.  But 
a  constitutional  deafness  now  began  to  manifest  itself,  and  sor- 
rowfully he  had  to  admit  to  his  own  conscience  that  the  imped- 
iment was  fatal  to  his  hopes  of  distinction.  From  conscientious 
motives,  his  thoughts  were  instantly  turned  toward  the  Church. 
His  literary  companions  were  all  more  or  less  inclined  to  De- 
ism, and  this  fact  led  to  inquiries  which  terminated  in  full  con- 
viction of  religious  truth.  It  is  instructive,  says  Sir  Harris  Nic- 
olas, in  his  sketch,  to  learn  to  what  circumstances  such  a  person 
as  Kirke  White  was  indebted  for  the  knowledge  "  which  causes 
not  to  err."  This  information  occurs  in  a  letter  from  him  to  a 
Mr.  Booth  in  August,  1801 ;  and  it  also  fixes  the  date  of  the 
happy  change  that  influenced  every  thought  and  every  action  of 
his  future  life,  which  gave  the  energy  of  virtue  to  his  exertions, 
soothed  the  asperities  of  a  temper  naturally  impetuous  and  irrita- 


524  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ble,  and  enabled  him,  at  a  period  when  manhood  was  full  of  hope 
and  promise,  to  view  the  approaches  of  death  with  the  calmness 
of  a  philosopher  and  the  resignation  of  a  saint.  After  thanking 
Mr.  Booth  for  the  present  of  Jones's  work  on  the  Trinity,  he  thus 
describes  his  religious  impressions  previous  to  its  perusal,  and  the 
effect  it  produced:  " Religious f  polemics,  indeed,  have  seldom 
formed  a  part  of  my  studies ;  though,  whenever  I  happened  acci- 
dentally to  turn  my  thoughts  to  the  subject  of  the  Protestant  doc- 
trine of  the  Godhead,  and  compared  it  with  Arian  and  Socinian, 
many  doubts  interfered,  and  I  even  began  to  think  that  the  more 
nicely  the  subject  was  investigated,  the  more  perpldfced  it  would 
appear,  and  was  on  the  point  of  forming  a  resolution  to  go  to 
heaven  in  my  own  way,  without  meddling  or  involving  myself  in 
the  inextricable  labyrinth  of  controversial  dispute,  when  I  re- 
ceived and  perused  this  excellent  treatise,  whiA  finally  cleared 
up  thejnists  which  my  ignorance  had  conjured  around  me,  "and 
clearly  pointed  out  the  real  truth."  From  this  moment  he  de- 
voted himself  entirely  to  the  services  of  religion,  and  determined 
to  enter  the  ministry,  if  that  happy  promotion  could  be  achieved. 
His  friends  were,  of  course,  opposed  to  any  change  in  his  profes- 
sion, believing,  as  they  had  every  reason  to  believe,  that  he  would 
attain  distinction  in  the  law.  But  he  was  deaf  to  their  remon- 
strances, and  firm  in  his  resolution  to  dedicate  the  rest  of  his  life 
to  the  Church.  The  first  thing  that  was  absolutely  necessary 
was  to  procure  means  to  proceed  to  the  University.  For  this 
purpose  he  ventured  on  the  hazardous  experiment  of  preparing 
a  volume  of  poems  for  the  press,  the  sale  of  which,  he  hoped, 
would  place  him  in  the  possession  of  funds.  Like  all  young 
authors  of  that  time,  he  needed  a  patron  or  patroness  to  whom 
the  book  might  be  dedicated.  He  applied  to  the  Countess  of 
Derby,  who  declined  on  the  ground  that  she  never  accepted  a 
compliment  of  that  character.  Her  ladyship  probably  looked  on 
literature  as  a  low,  vulgar  thing,  beneath  her  consideration.  He 
then  addressed  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire,  and  a  letter,  with 
the  manuscript,  was  left  at  her  house.  After  a  number  of  dis- 
heartening delays  the  required  permission  was  granted,  and  the 
book  came  out  in  1803.  It  is  curious  to  know  that,  although  a 
copy  was  transmitted  to  the  duchess,  she  paid  no  attention  to 
it,  and  neither  rewarded  the  Author  with  its  price  in  kindness  or 
money.  The  author  was  naturally  nervous  about  his  first  pro- 


HENRY  KIRKE  WHITE.  525 

duction,  and  sent  imploring  letters  to  the  Reviewers,  depreciating 
his  own  effort,  and  bespeaking  a  little  kindliness.  It- is  unneces- 
sary to  add  that  this  step  was  ill-judged  and  useless.  It  is  no 
part  of  a  Reviewer's  duty  to  consult  the  feelings,  be  they  modest 
or  otherwise,  of  an  author.  The  Monthly  Review  pitched  into  the 
young  poet,  and  selected  some  of  the  worst  lines  to  strengthen 
its  position  that  the  book  did  not  justify  any  sanguine  expecta- 
tions. White  was  sorely  distressed  by  this  article,  and  writing 
to  a  friend  said,  "  I  am  at  present  under  afflictions  and  conten- 
tions of  spirit  heavier  than  I  ever  yet  experienced.  I  think  at 
times  I  am  mad,  and  destitute  of  religion ;  my  pride  is  not  yet 
subdued ;  the  unfavorable  review  (the  '  Monthly')  of  my  unhap- 
py work  has  cut  deeper  than  you  could  have  thought,  not  in  a 
literary  point  of  view,  but  as  it  affects  my  respectability.  It  rep- 
resents me  actually  as  a  beggar,  going  about  gathering  money  to 
put  myself  at  college,  when  my  book  is  worthless,  and  this  with 
every  appearance  of  candor.  They  have  been  sadly  misinformed 
respecting  me ;  this  Review  goes  before  me  wherever  I  turn  my 
steps ;  it  haunts  me  incessantly,  and  I  am  persuaded  it  is  an  in- 
strument in  the  hands  of  Satan  to  drive  me  to  distraction.  I 
must  leave  Nottingham.  If  the  answer  of  the  Elland  Society  be 
unfavorable,  I  purpose  writing  to  the  Marquis  of  Wellesley,  to 
offer  myself  as  a  student  at  the  academy  he  has  instituted  at  Fort 
William,  in  Bengal,  and  at  the  proper  age  to  take  orders  there. 
The  missionaries  at  that  place  have  done  wonders  already ;  and  I 
should,  I  hope,  be  a  valuable  laborer  in  the  vineyard.  If  the  mar- 
quis take  no  notice  of  my  application,  or  do  not  accede  to  my 
proposal,  I  shall  place  myself  in  some  other  way  of  making  a 
meet  preparation  for  the  holy  office,  either  in  the  Calvinistic  Acad- 
emy, or  in  one  of  the  Scotch  universities,  where  I  shall  be  able  to 
live  at  scarcely  any  expense."  The  criticism  referred  to  was  un- 
just as  it  was  ungenerous,  and  elicited  from  Mr.  Southey,  the 
poet,  an  encouraging  letter,  expressing  his  opinion  of  the  merits 
of  the  book,  and  giving  him  some  kind  and  timely  advice.  With 
the  approbation  of  a  man  so  distinguished,  White  thought  no  more 
of  the  Reviewer.  "  I  dare,  not  say  all  I  feel  respecting  your  opin- 
ion of  my  little  volume,"  he  wrote  in  reply.  "  The  extreme  acri- 
mony with  which  the  Monthly  Review  (of  all  others  the  most  im- 
portant) treated  me,  threw  me  into  a  state  of  stupefaction.  I  re- 
garded all  that  had  passed  as  a  dream,  and  I  thought  I  had  been 


526  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

deluding  myself  into  an  idea  of  possessing  poetic  genius,  when,  in 
fact,  I  had  only  the  longing,  without  the  afflatus.  I  mustered  res- 
olution enough,  however,  to  write  spiritedly  to«them;  their  an- 
swer, in  the  ensuing  number,  was  a  tacit  acknowledgment  that 
they  had  been  somewhat  too  unsparing  in  their  correction.  It 
was  a  poor  attempt  to  salve  over  a  wound  wantonly  and  ungen- 
erously inflicted.  Still  I  was  damped,  because  I  knew  the  work 
was  very  respectable,  and  therefore  could  not,  I  concluded,  give  a 
criticism  grossly  deficient  in  equity,  the  more  especially  as  I  knew 
of  no  sort  of  inducement  to  extraordinary  severity.  Your  letter, 
however,  has  revived  me,  and  I  do  again  venture  to  hope  that  I 
may  still  produce  something  which  will  survive  me.  With  regard 
to  your  advice  and  offers  of  assistance,  I  will  not  attempt,  because 
I  am  unable,  to  thank  you  for  them.  To-morrow  morning  I 
depart  for  Cambridge  ;  and  I  have  considerable  hopes  that,  as  I 
do  not  enter  into  the  University  with  any  sinister  or  interested 
views,  but  sincerely  desire  to  perform  the  duties  of  an  affection- 
ate and  vigilant  pastor,  and  become  more  useful  to  mankind — I 
therefore  have  hopes,  I  say,  that  I  shall  find  means  of  support  in 
the  University ;  if  I  do  not,  I  shall  certainly  act  in  pursuance  of 
your  recommendations,  and  shall,  without  hesitation,  avail  myself 
of  your  offers  of  service  and  of  your  directions.  In  a  short  time 
this  will  be  determined,  and  when  it  is,  I  shall  take  the  liberty  of 
writing  to  you  at  Keswick,  to  make  you  acquainted  with  the  re- 
sult." 

By  the  united  efforts  of  his  friends,  White  was  presented  with 
a  sizarship  at  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge.  On  the  10th  of 
April,  1804,  he  expressed  his  gratification  at  this  event  in  the  fol- 
lowing devout  strain :  "  Most  fervently  do  I  return  thanks  to  God 
for  this  providential  opening :  it  has  breathed  new  animation  into 
me,  and  my  breast  expands  with  the  prospect  of  becoming  the 
minister  of  Christ  where  I  most  desired  it,  but  where  I  almost 
feared  all  probability  of  success  was  nearly  at  an  end.  *  *  *  I  re- 
turn thanks  to  God  for  keeping  me  so  long  in  suspense,  for  I 
know  it  has  been  beneficial  to  my  soul,  and  I  feel  a  considerable 
trust  that  the  way  is  now  about  to  be  made  clear,  and  that  my 
doubts  and  fears  on  this  head  will  in  due  time  be  removed."  As 
a  preparation  for  the  college  course,  White  placed  himself  with  a 
private  tutor  for  a  year,  and,  while  under  that  gentleman's  care, 
he  studied  with  such  indiscreet  fervor  that  fears  were  excited  not 


HENRY  KIRKE  WHITE.  527 

for  his  health  only,  but  for  his  intellect.  On  a  former  occasion 
he  had  brought  on  a  severe  attack  of  illness  in  the  same  way,  and 
a  similar  penalty  awaited  him  now.  "I  fear,"  he  wrote,  "my 
good  genius,  who  was  wont  to  visit  me  with  nightly  visions  in 
woods  and  brakes,  and  by  the  river's  marge,  is  now  dying  of  a 
fen  ague,  and  I  shall  thus,  probably,  emerge  from  my  retreat, 
not  a  hair-brained  son  of  imagination,  but  a  sedate,  black-letter- 
ed bookworm,  with  a  head  like  an  etymologicon  magnum."  He 
recovered  after  a  while,  and  applied  himself  with  great  assidu- 
ity to  the  study  of  theology.  In  October,  1805,  Kirke  White 
became  a  resident  member  of  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  and 
was  soon  distinguished  for  his  classical  knowledge  ;  but  it  was  at 
a  fearful  sacrifice.  By  neglecting  to  provide  for  the  healthful  re- 
quirements of  the  body,  he  had  so  enfeebled  it  that  the  seeds  of 
disease  took  easy  root,  and  now,  while  on  the  threshold  of  fame, 
he  found  his  footsteps  totter  and  his  mind  grow  numb.  He  was 
told  that  the  only  chance  of  prolonging  his  life  was  to  fly  to  a 
milder  climate,  and  abandon  study  altogether.  Such  advice  was 
not  likely  to  be  valued  by  one  who  looked  on  fame  as  dearer  than 
existence,  and  was  willing  to  perish  so  long  as  he  perished  at  the 
wheel.  He  continued  his  pursuits  unintimidated  by  the^ warn- 
ings of  his  friends.  During  the  first  term  he  became  a  candidate 
for  one  of  the  University  scholarships,  but  the  increased  exertion 
he  underwent  was  attended  by  results  that  obliged  him  to  retire 
from  the  contest.  "  At  this  moment,"  says  his  biographer,  "  the 
general  college  examination  approached,  and  thinking  that,  if  he 
failed,  his  hopes  would  be  blasted  forever,  he  taxed  his  energies  to 
the  utmost,  during  the  fortnight  which  intervened,  to  meet  the 
trial.  He  became  so  sick  in  consequence  that  he  was  considered 
unable  to  go  to  the  hall  to  be  examined.  His  tutor,  Mr.  Catton, 
touched  by  the  tears  of  his  pupil,  urged  him  to  use  stimulants 
during  the  six  days  of  the  examination.  He  did  so,  and  was  pro- 
nounced the  first  man  of  his  year.  Soon  after  this  event  he  went 
to  London  for  relaxation,  was  received  cordially  in  literary  cir- 
cles, and  returned  to  Cambridge  in  improved  health.  Unwarned 
by  the  past,  he  plunged  into  his  old  habits  of  study,  and,  as  a 
necessary  consequence,  had  a  relapse.  In  a  letter  to  a  friend  he 
describes  his  condition  :  "  I  have  had  a  recurrence  of  my  old  com- 
plaint within  this  last  four  or  five  days,  which  has  quite  unnerved 
me  for  every  thing.  The  state  of  my  health  is  really  miserable. 


528  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

I  am  well  and  lively  in  the  morning,  and  overwhelmed  with  nerv- 
ous horrors  in  the  evening.  I  do  not  know  how  to  proceed  with 
regard  to  my  studies.  A  very  slight  overstretch  of  the  mind  in 
the  daytime  occasions  me  not  only  a  sleepless  night,  but  a  night 
of  gloom  and  horror.  The  systole  and  diastole  of  my  heart  seem 
to  be  playing  at  ball — the  stake  my  life.  I  can  only  say  the  game 
is  not  yet  decided  ;  I  allude  to  the  violence  of  the  palpitation.  I 
am  going  to  mount  the  Gog-Magog  Hills  this  morning  in  quest 
of  a  good  night's  sleep.  The  Gog-Magog  Hills  for  my  body,  and 
the  Bible  for  my  mind,  are  my  only  medicines.  I  am  sorry  to 
say  that  neither  are  quite  adequate."  He  rallied  again,  but  seems 
to  have  been  aware  that  his  end  was  not  far  distant,  and  determ- 
ined to  spend  the  next  vacation  at  Nottingham.  In  April  he 
proceeded  to  that  town,  and  on  the  7th  wrote  a  very  melancholy 
account  of  himself:  "  It  seems  determined  upon  by  my  mother 
that  I  can  not  be  spared,  since  the  time  of  my  stay  is  so  very 
short,  and  my  health  so  very  uncertain.  The  people  here  can 
scarcely  be  persuaded  that  any  thing  ails  me,  so  well  do  I  look ; 
but  occasional  depressions,  especially  after  any  thing  has  occurred 
to  occasion  uneasiness,  still  harass  me.  My  mind  is  of  a  very 
peculiar  cast.  I  began  to  think  too  early ;  and  the  indulgence  of 
certain  trains  of  thought,  and  too  free  an  exercise  of  the  imagina- 
tion, have  superinduced  a  morbid  kind  of  sensibility,  which  is  to 
the  mind  what  excessive  irritability  is  to  the  body.  Some  cir- 
cumstances occurred  on  my  arrival,  at  Nottingham  which  gave 
me  just  cause  for  inquietude  and  anxiety ;  the  consequences  were 
insomnia,  and  a  relapse  into  causeless  dejections.  It  is  my  busi- 
ness now  to  curb  these  irrational  and  immoderate  aifections,  and, 
by  accustoming  myself  to  sober  thought  and  cool  reasoning,  to  re- 
strain these  freaks  and  vagaries  of  the  fancy.  When  I  am  well  I 
dan  not  help  entertaining  a  sort  of  contempt  for  the  weakness  of 
mind  which  marks  my  indispositions.  Titus  when  well,  and  Ti- 
tus when  ill,  are  two  distinct  persons.  The  man  when  in  health 
despises  the  man  when  ill  for  his  weakness,  and  the  latter  envies 
the  former  for  his  felicity."  On  his  return  to  college  his  pros- 
pects seemed  to  brighten  in  every  thing  save  health.  He  was 
again  pronounced  first  at  the  great  examination ;  he  was  one  of 
the  three  best  theme-writers,  whose  merits  were  so  nearly  equal 
that  the  examiners  could  not  decide  between  them ;  and  he  was 
a  prizeman  both  in  the  mathematical  and  logical  or  general  exam- 


HENRY  KIRKE  WHITE.  529 

ination,  and  in  Latin  composition.  His  college  offered  him  a  pri- 
vate tutor  free  of  expense,  and  Mr.  Catton  obtained  exhibitions 
for  him  to  the  value  of  sixty-one  pounds  per  annum,  by  which  he 
was  enabled  to  give  up  the  pecuniary  assistance  he  had  received 
from  his  friends.  The  highest  honors  of  the  University  were 
within  his  grasp,  but  it  was  ordained  that  death  should  stay  his 
hand.  In  July  he  was  seized  with  an  attack  which  threatened 
his  life,  but  from  this  he  recovered.  In  September  he  went  to 
London  on  a  visit  to  his  brother,  but  returned  to  college  in  a  few 
weeks,  in  a  state  that  precluded  all  chance  of  prolonging  his  exist- 
ence. Toward  the  middle  of  the  month  (October,  1806),  a  friend 
informed  his  brother  of  his  actual  state.  He  hastened  to  him, 
but  when  he  arrived  he  was  delirious,  and,  although  reason  re- 
turned for  a  short  time,  he  sunk  into  a  low  state,  and  on  Sunday, 
the  19th,  quietly  expired.  He  was  in  his  twenty-second  year  at 
the  time  of  the  unhappy  event. 

In  whatever'  light,  says  Sir  Harris  Nicolas,  the  character  of 
this  unhappy  youth  be  contemplated,  it  is  full  of  instruction.  His 
talents  were  unusually  precocious,  and  their  variety  was  as  aston- 
ishing as  their  extent.  Besides  the  poetical  pieces  which  have 
given  his  name  a  lasting  interest  to  English  literature,  and  his 
scholastic  attainments,  his  ability  was  manifested  in  various  other 
ways.  His  style  was  remarkable  for  its  clearness  and  elegance, 
and  his  correspondence  and  prose  pieces  show  extensive  informa- 
tion. To  great  genius  and  capacity  he  united  the  rarest  and 
more  important  gifts  of  sound  judgment  and  common  sense.  It 
is  usually  the  misfortune  of  genius  to  invest  ordinary  objects  with 
a  meretricious  coloring  that  perverts  their  forms  and  purposes,  to 
make  its  possessor  imagine  that  it  exempts  him  from  attending  to 
those  strict  rules  of  moral  conduct  to  which  others  are  bound  to 
adhere,  and  to  render  him  neglectful  of  the  sacred  assurance  that 
"  to  whom  much  is  given  from  him  will  much  be  required." 
Nature,  in  Kirke  White's  case,  appears,  on  the  contrary,  to  have 
determined  that  she  would,  in  one  instance  at  least,  prove  that 
high  intellectual  attainments  are  strictly  compatible  with  every 
social  and  moral  virtue.  At  a  very  early  period  of  his  life  religion 
became  the  predominant  feeling  of  his  mind,  and  she  imparted  her 
sober  and  chastened  effects  to  all  his  thoughts  and  actions.  The 
cherished  object  of  every  member  of  his  family,  he  repaid  their 
affection  by  the  most  anxious  solicitude  for  their  welfare,  offering 

Z 


530  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

his  advice  on  spiritual  affairs  with  impressive  earnestness,  and 
indicating,  in  every  letter  of  his  voluminous  correspondence,  the 
greatest  consideration  for  their  feelings  and  happiness.  For  the 
last  six  years  he  deemed  himself  marked  out  for  the  service  of  his 
Maker — not  like  the  member  of  a  convent,  whose  duties  consist 
only  in  prayer,  but  in  the  exercise  of  that  philanthropy  and  prac- 
tical benevolence  which  ought  to  adorn  every  parish  priest.  To 
qualify  himself  properly  for  the  holy  office,  he  subjected  his  mind 
to  the  severest  discipline ;  and  his  letters  display  a  rational  piety 
and  an  enlightened  view  of  religious  obligations  which  is  even 
superior  to  the  fervor  of  his  poetical  pieces. 

Kirke  White's  sacred  poetry  is  extensively  known,  and,  being 
the  best  of  its  kind,  will  preserve  a  place  in  English  literature. 
Its  great  merits  are  the  feeling  and  natural  pathos  with  which  the 
author  writes.  He  speaks  directly  from  his  heart  so  simply  that 
all  who  have  hearts  must  be  touched.  His  command  of  language 
is  copious,  but  he  lacks  imagination  and  metaphorical  color.  He 
is  pathetic,  plaintive,  and  agreeable,  and  recalls  associations  which 
most  people  have  experienced  and  like  to  have  recalled.  That  he 
touched  a  tuneful  chord  in  the  human  breast  is  evidenced  by  the 
fact  that  his  works  have  gone  through  many  hundred  editions, 
and  are,  perhaps,  better  read  than  any  contemporary  poet. 

Kirke  White  was  buried  in  the  church  of  "  All  Saints,"  Cam- 
bridge, and  a  tablet  was  erected  to  his  memory  by  Mr.  Francis 
Boot,  of  Boston,  a  liberal-minded  American  gentleman.  The  tab- 
let has  a  medallion  by  Chantrey,  and  an  inscription  by  Professor 
Smyth,  of  which  the  following  is  a  copy : 

"  Wann'd  with  fond  hope  and  learning's  sacred  flam", 
To  Granta's  bowers  the  youthful  poet  came ; 
Unconquer'd  powers  the  immortal  mind  display'd, 
But,  worn  with  anxious  thought,  the  frame  decay'd : 
Pale  o'er  his  lamp,  and  in  his  cell  retired, 
The  martyr-student  faded  and  expired. 
Oh !  genius,  taste,  and  piety  sincere, 
Too  early  lost  'midst  studies  too  severe  ! 
Foremost  to  mourn  was  generous  Southey  seen ; 
He  told  the  tale,  and  show'd  what  White  had  been  : 
Nor  told  in  vain ;  for  o'er  the  Atlantic  wave 
A  wanderer  came,  and  sought  the  poet's  .grave ; 
On  yon  lone  stone  he  saw  his  lonely  name, 
And  raised  this  fond  memorial  to  his  fame." 


JAMES    WATT. 

JAMES  WATT,  the  world's  most  illustrious  mechanic,  was  born 
at  Greenock,  Scotland,  on  the  19th  of  January,  1736.  His  father 
enjoyed  a  good  social  position,  and  was  held  in  high  esteem  by  his 
fellow- townsmen,  having  been  appointed  one  of  the  magistrates  of 
the  town.  The  subject  of  our  memoir  received  the  rudiments  of 
his  education  in  his  native  place,  the  delicacy  of  his  health  prohib- 
iting a  resort  to  other  and  more  distant  academies.  The  natural 
studiousness  of  his  disposition  was  perhaps  increased  by  this  weak  - 
liness.  Reading  supplied  the  place  of  rougher  and  less  serviceable 
exercises.  So  tenacious  was  his  memory,  that  at  a  very  early  age 
he  was  well  informed  on  many  subjects  of  a  scientific  character, 
especially  those  branches  which  were  connected  more  or  less  with 
mechanics.  Except  that  he  was  a  quiet,  amiable,  studious  youth, 
we  know  nothing  of  any  particular  importance  concerning  the 
early  years  of  his  life.  At  the  age  of  eighteen  he  was  sent  to 
London  to  be  apprenticed  to  a  maker  of  mathematical  instru- 
ments, but,  in  little  more  than  a  year,  the  feebleness  of  his 
health  compelled  him  to  abandon  this  profession  and  return  to 


532  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

his  home.  He  appears  to  have  had  a  liking  for  the  business, 
however,  and  probably  practiced  it  until  he  felt  that  he  knew 
enough  to  start  for  himself.  This  he  did  at  Glasgow  in  1757, 
and  was  appointed  mathematical  instrument  maker  to  the  college. 
He  retained  this  situation  for  many  years,  and  was  able  greatly 
to  improve  himself  in  every  department  of  knowledge.  One  of 
his  principal  occupations  was  the  repairing  of  the  scientific  appa- 
ratus of  the  college.  The  dexterity  with  which  he  did  this,  and 
the  amount  of  knowledge  he  possessed  on  most  mechanical  sub- 
jects, brought  him  into  friendly  contact  with  the  various  profess- 
ors. They  met  in  his  little  room,  and  discussed  subjects  of  nat- 
ural philosophy,  and  no  doubt  theorized  largely  on  all  the  leading 
topics  of  the  day.  One  of  young  Watt's  most  frequent  visitors 
was  Mr.  (afterward  Dr.)  Robison,  who  at  that  time  was  specu- 
lating on  the  possibility  of  applying  steam  as  a  motive  power  to 
wheel  carriages.  "Watt  had  himself  made  some  experiments  on 
the  elasticity  of  steam,  assured  that  vast  forces  were  yet  to  be 
secured  from  it.  The  steam-engine  was  then  but  slightly  known, 
and,  owing  to  its  many  imperfections,  still  more  slightly  used. 
Some  recent  improvements  made  by  Newcomen  only  served  to 
indicate  what  might  be  accomplished.  While  the  two  friends 
were  discussing  the  matter,  a  model  was  sent  in  to  be  repaired  by 
the  professor  of  natural  philosophy.  On  examination,  it  proved 
to  be  a  miniature  copy  of  Newcomen's  improved  engine.  This 
treasure  was  eagerly  examined  by  Watt,  and  criticised  with  tech- 
nical exactitude.  In  a  very  little  while  he  discovered  the  reason 
why  the  model  would  not  work,  and  at  the  same  time  saw  that, 
however  admirably  it  might  perform  its  functions,  it  was  still  an 
imperfect  machine.  With  the  view  of  remedying  its  defects,  he 
commenced  an  extensive  series  of  experiments.  The  boiler  and 
the  generation  of  steam  were  the  first  objects  of  his  attention. 
He  was  soon  rewarded  with  many  valuable  discoveries.  The 
rapidity  with  which  water  evaporates,  he  found,  depended  on  cer- 
tain causes  which  were  before  unknown  to  him.  He  also  ascer- 
tained the  quantity  of  coals  necessary  for  the  evaporation  of  any 
given  quantity  of  water ;  the  heat  at  which  water  boils  under 
various  pressures,  and  many  other  particulars  of  a  similar  kind, 
many  of  which  had  never  before  been  determined.  When  he  had 
disposed  of  these  questions,  he  turned  his  attention  to  the  cylin- 
der, which  he  declared  to  be  radically  defective.  In  Newcomen's 


JAMES  WATT.  533 

engine,  it  had  to  be  cooled  after  every  stroke  of  the  piston,  in  order 
to  condense  the  waste  steam.  This  was  effected  in  an  ingenious 
way,  by  the  injection  of  a  small  jet  of  cold  water  into  the  cylinder, 
but  it  occasioned  a  great  waste  of  power  and  an  extravagant  ex- 
penditure of  fuel.  If,  argued  Watt,  the  cylinder,  instead  of  being 
thus  cooled  for  every  stroke  of  the  piston,  could  be  kept  perma- 
nently hot,  a  fourth  part  of  the  heat  which  had  been  hitherto  ap- 
plied would  be  found  sufficient.  The  question  now  was  how  this 
desirable  object  could  be  accomplished.  It  was  his  constant  theme, 
walking,  sleeping,  dreaming.  All  the  faculties  of  his  suggestive 
mind  were  directed  to  the  solution  of  the  great  and  important 
problem.  After  brooding  over  it  for  some  time,  he  abandoned 
the  idea  of  getting  rid  of  the  waste  steam  in  the  vessel  where  it 
had  been  used  ;  he  could  discover  no  possible  way  of  doing  so  in 
a  complete  and  thorough  manner.  The  next  question  was  how 
to  dispose  of  it.  At  last  it  occurred  to  him  that  it  might  be  pos- 
sible to  draw  it  off  into  another  vessel,  and  so  got  rid  of  without 
inconvenience.  This  happy  idea  wras  the  first  step  toward  the 
vast  improvements  which  he  afterward  made.  In  the  course  of 
one  or  two  days,  according  to  his  own  account,  he  had  all  the 
apparatus  arranged  in  his  own  mind.  The  plan  was  extremely 
simple,  and  on  that  account  more  practicable  and  valuable.  He 
proposed  to  establish  a  communication  by  an  open  pipe  between 
the  cylinder  and  another  vessel,  the  consequence  of  which  evident- 
ly would  be,  that  when  the  steam  was  admitted  into  the  former, 
it  would  flow  into  the  latter,  so  as  to  fill  it  also.  If,  then,  the 
portion  in  this  latter  vessel  only  should  be  subjected  to  a  con- 
densing process  by  being  brought  into  contact  with  cold  water, 
or  any  other  convenient  means,  what  would  follow?  Why,  a 
vacuum  would  be  produced,  into  which  more  steam  would  imme- 
diately rush  from  the  cylinder ;  that  likewise  would  be  condensed, 
and  so  the  process  would  go  on  till  all  the  steam  had  left  the  cylin- 
der. In  this  way,  the  main  cylinder  would  be  kept  nearly  at  an 
equal  temperature.  When  these  views  were  tested  by  experiment, 
the  result  was  found  to  answer  Watt's  most  sanguine  expectations. 
A  great  saving  of  fuel  and  a  vast  increase  of  power  were  effected. 
But  the  genius  of  the  inventor  had  many  serious  obstacles  to  over- 
come. One  of  these  was  the  difficulty  of  making  the  cylinder  air- 
tight. In  the  old  engines,  this  was  effected  by  covering  the  top 
with  water,  the  dripping  down  of  which  into  the  space  below. 


534  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

where  it  merely  assisted  condensation,  was  of  little  importance, 
but,  now  that  the  condensation  was  carried  on  in  a  separate  ves- 
sel, it  became  highly  necessary  to  prevent  any  thing  entering  the 
cylinder  except  the  virgin  steam.  The  admission  of  air  tended  to 
cool  the  cylinder,  especially  in  the  lower  parts,  while  Watt's  great 
object  was  to  keep  it  dry  and  warm,  and  at  an  equal  temperature 
throughout.  It  must  be  remembered,  also,  that  at  this  time  the 
top  of  the  cylinder  was  entirely  open  ;  a  column  of  steam  thrust 
up  the  piston,  and  the  weight  of  the  atmosphere  thrust  it  down 
again.  It  now  occurred  to  Mr.  Watt  that  the  proper  way  to  effect 
the  object  he  had  in  view  was  to  completely  close  the  cylinder, 
leaving  only  room  for  the  piston-rod  to  work  up  and  down.  The 
hole  necessary  for  this  purpose  was  padded  with  hemp  and  satu- 
rated with  oil,  so  that  the  natural  adhesion  of  atmospheric  air  to 
the  piston-rod  was  wiped  away  in  its  descent  downward.  The 
next  thing  was  to  provide  a  compensating  power  for  the  atmos- 
pheric air,  whose  downward  pressure  had  hitherto  been  essential 
to  the  action  of  the  engine.  This  he  accomplished  by  introducing 
a  column  of  steam  in  the  top  of  the  cylinder,  so  that  when  the 
piston  had  been  pressed  up  by  the  column  from  below,  it  was 
pressed  down  again  by  the  column  from  above,  and  thus  main- 
tained the  regularity  of  its  motions  by  a  double-acting  steam  power. 
Some  minor  improvements  were  afterward  added,  but  what  we 
have  described  were  the  radical  features  of  Mr.  Watt's  first  and 
great  reform.  The  strength,  precision,  velocity,  and  controllability 
of  the  steam-engine  were  by  these  great  inventions  rendered  of 
practical  benefit  to  the  human  race.  It  came  into  his  hands  a. 
toy ;  it  left  them  a  mighty  instrument  of  beneficent  Progress. 

The  subsequent  improvements  made  by  Watt  were  equally  val- 
uable and  astonishing.  Like  a  mighty  lion-tamer,  he  seemed  to 
delight  in  exhibiting  the  docility  of  the  brute  force  he  had  sub- 
dued. "  In  the  present  perfect  state  of  the  engine,"  says  Dr.  Ar- 
nott,  in  his  Elements  of  Physics,  "  it  appears  a  thing  almost  en- 
dowed with  intelligence.  It  regulates  with  perfect  accuracy  and 
uniformity  the  number  of  its  strokes  in  a  given  time,  counting,  or 
recording  them,  moreover,  to  tell  how  much  work  it  has  done,  as 
a  clock  records  the  beats  of  its  pendulum.  It  regulates  the  quan- 
tity of  steam  admitted  to  work;  the  briskness  of  the  fire;  the  sup- 
ply of  water  to  the  boiler ;  the  supply  of  coals  to  the  fire  ;  it  opens 
and  shuts  its  valves  with  absolute  precision  as  to  time  and  manner  ; 


JAMES  WAIT.  535 

it  oils  its  joints ;  it  takes  out  any  air  which  may  accidentally  enter 
into  parts  which  should  be  vacuous ;  and,  when  any  thing  goes 
wrong  which  it  can  not  of  itself  rectify,  it  warns  its  attendants  by 
ringing  a  bell.  Yet,  with  all  these  talents  and  qualities,  and  even 
when  exerting  the  power  of  six  hundred  horses,  it  is  obedient  to 
the  hand  of  a  child.  Its  aliment  is  coal,  wood,  charcoal,  or  other 
combustible  ;  it  consumes  none  while  idle  ;  it  never  tires,  and 
wants  no  sleep ;  it  is  not  subject  to  malady  when  originally  well 
made,  and  only  refuses  to  work  when  worn  out  with  old  age ;  it 
is  equally  active  in  all  climates,  and  will  do  work  of  any  kind ; 
it  is  a  water-pumper,  a  miner,  a  sailor,  a  cotton-spinner,  a  weav- 
er, a  blacksmith,  a  miller,  etc.,  etc. ;  and  a  small  engine  in  the 
character  of  a  steam  pony  may  be  seen  dragging  after  it  on  a  rail- 
road a  hundred  tons  of  merchandise,  or  a  regiment  of  soldiers, 
with  greater  speed  than  that  of  our  fleetest  coaches.  It  is  the 
king  of  machines,  and  a  permanent  realization  of  the  genii  of  East- 
ern fable,  whose  supernatural  powers  were  occasionally  at  the 
command  of  man." 

Watt  did  not  escape  the  usual  experience  of  inventors,  or  what 
Mr.  Wilkins  Micawber  playfully  describes  as  "  the  pressure  of  pe- 
cuniary liabilities."  His  own  means  were  limited,  and,  in  order 
to  prosecute  many  of  his  experiments,  he  had  to  obtain  the  as- 
sistance of  friends.  If  Dr.  Roebuck  was  one  of  these,  he  certainly 
was  a  very  greedy  friend,  for  he  made  advances  on  the  hard  con- 
ditions that  two  thirds  of  the  profits  should  be  made  over  to  him. 
Watt's  first  patent  was  obtained  on  these  terms  (1769).  An  en- 
gine was  immediately  afterward  erected  at  the  doctor's  works. 
It  was  found  to  answer  tolerably  well,  but  various  alterations 
were  needed,  and,  consequently,  a  fresh  advance  of  funds  was  nec- 
essary. However  willing  Dr.  Roebuck  may  have  been  to  assist 
Watt  on  the  two-thirds  principle,  he  was  now  unable  to  do  so. 
He  found  himself  involved  in  his  business,  and  completely  inca- 
pable of  making  farther  advances.  For  nearly  five  years  Watt 
abandoned  the  prosecution  of  his  various  plans,  and  sought  a  liv- 
ing by  pursuing  the  profession  of  civil  engineer.  He  seems  to 
have  waited  in  expectation  of  Dr.  Roebuck's  coming  prosperity ; 
but,  finding  that  this  was  rather  a  slow  process,  he  resolved  to 
close  with  a  proposal  which  had  been  made  to  him  through  his 
friend,  Dr.  Small,  of  Birmingham,  that  he  should  remove  to  that 
town,  and  enter  into  partnership  with  the  eminent  hardware  man- 


536  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ufacturer,  Mr.  Bolton,  of  the  Soho  Works.  In  a  short  time  an  ar- 
rangement was  made  with  Dr.  Roebuck,  and  Watt  took  his  de- 
parture for  what  was  destined  to  be  the  scene  of  all  his  future 
triumphs.  The  new  firm  of  Bolton  &  Watt  commenced  the  man- 
ufacture of  steam-engines  in  the  year  1775,  and  immediately  erect- 
ed a  specimen  machine  on  their  premises,  to  which  they  invited 
the  attention  of  all  persons  interested  in,  or  likely  to  be  benefited 
by  the  patent.  "They  then  proposed  to  erect  similar  engines 
wherever  required,  on  the  very  liberal  principle  of  receiving,  as 
payment  for  each,  only  one  third  of  the  saving  in  fuel  which  it 
should  effect,  as  compared  with  one  of  the  old  construction." 
Small  as  this  compensation  appeared  to  be,  it  soon  amounted  to 
an  enormous  revenue,  and  at  last  excited  the  cupidity  of  other 
manufacturers,  who  tried  to  infringe  the  patents  (of  which  Watt 
&  Bolton  had  several),  and,  of  course,  to  evade  payment  to  the  pat- 
entees. Six  or  seven  years  were  spent  in  litigation,  during  which 
time  all  sorts  of  attempts  were  made  to  snatch  the  laurels  from 
Watt's  brow,  but  without  avail.  In  1799,  a  unanimous  decision 
of  all  the  judges  of  the  Court  of  King's  Bench  established  the  va- 
lidity of  his  claims,  and  thus  disposed  of  opposition  forever. 

Watt's  inventive  genius  found  occupation  in  many  other  ways 
beside  the  perfecting  of  the  steam-engine.  An  apparatus  for  cop- 
ying letters,  now  in  common  use  ;  a  method  of  heating  houses  by 
steam  ;  a  new  composition  for  the  purposes  of  sculpture,  having 
the  transparency  and  nearly  the  hardness  of  marble ;  a  machine 
for  multiplying  copies  of  busts  and  other  works  in  carving  and 
statuary,  are  enumerated  among  his  minor  inventions. 

In  1800  Mr.  Watt  withdrew  from  business,  and,  although  con- 
stantly in  feeble  health,  enjoyed  nineteen  years  of  domestic  fe- 
licity in  the  bosom  of  his  family.  He  died  on  the  25th  of  Au- 
gust, 1819,  highly  respected  by  all  who  knew  him,  and  honored  to 
the  present  day  as  one  of  England's  greatest  benefactors.  During 
his  career  he  received  frequent  testimonials  of  esteem  from  the 
learned  societies  of  Europe.  In  1784  he  was  elected  a  fellow  of 
the  Royal  Society  of  Edinburgh  ;  in  1785,  a  member  of  the  Royal 
Society  of  London  ;  in  1787,  a  corresponding  member  of  the  Ba- 
tavian  Society ;  in  1806  he  received  from  Glasgow  the  degree  of 
Doctor  of  Laws ;  and  in  1808  he  was  elected,  first,  a  correspond- 
ing member,  and  afterward  an  associate  of  the  Institution  of 
France. 


JAMES  WATT.  537 

Mr.  "Watt  was  in  the  strictest  sense  a  cultivated  man.  There 
was  hardly  a  physical  science  or  an  art  with  which  he  was  not 
pretty  intimately  acquainted.  He  was  familiar  with  several  mod- 
ern languages,  and  well  read  in  literature.  "  Perhaps  no  indi- 
vidual in  his  age,"  says  Mr.  Jeffrey,  "possessed  so  much,  and  such 
varied  and  exact  information  ;  had  read  so  much,  or  remembered 
what  he  had  read  so  accurately  and  well.  He  had  infinite  quick- 
ness of  apprehension,  a  prodigious  memory,  and  a  certain  recti- 
fying and  methodizing  power  of  understanding,  which  extracted 
something  precious  out  of  all  that  was  presented  to  it.  His  stores 
of  miscellaneous  knowledge  were  immense,  and  yet  less  astonish- 
ing than  the  command  he  had  at  all  times  over  them.  It  seemed 
as  if  every  subject  that  was  casually  started  in  conversation  had 
been  that  which  he  had  been  last  occupied  in  studying  and  ex- 
hausting, such  was  the  copiousness,  the  precision,  and  the  admi- 
rable clearness  of  the  information  which  he  poured  out  upon  it 
without  effort  or  hesitation.  Nor  was  this  promptitude  and  com- 
pass of  knowledge  confined  in  any  degree  to  the  studies  connected 
with  his  ordinary  pursuits.  That  he  should  have  been  minutely 
and  extensively  skilled  in  chemistry  and  the  arts,  and  in  most  of 
the  branches  of  physical  science,  might,  perhaps,  have  been  con- 
jectured ;  but  it  could  not  have  been  inferred  from  his  usual  oc- 
cupations, and  probably  is  not  generally  known,  that  he  was  cu- 
riously learned  in  many  branches  of  antiquity,  metaphysics,  med- 
icine, and  etymology,  and  perfectly  at  home  in  all  the  details  of 
architecture,  music,  and  law." 

Z2 


WILLIAM    COBBETT. 

ONE  of  the  most  remarkable  self-made  men  that  England  can 
boast  is  William  Cobbett,  the  subject  of  the  present  sketch.  From 
the  author's  own  voluminous  writings  we  are  able  to  gather  most 
of  the  materials  of  his  eventful  life,  especially  from  that  entertain- 
ing work,  the  Life  of  Peter  Porcupine.  It  is  unfortunate,  however, 
that  Mr.  Cobbett  never  thought  it  worth  while  to  dwell  minutely 
on  the  early  incidents  of  his  life,  and  our  information  on  that  in- 
teresting era  is  necessarily  imperfect  and  broken.  We  will  en- 
deavor to  string  together  what  we  can  in  the  author's  own  words. 

William  Cobbett  was  born  in  the  town  of  Farnham,  Surrey, 
England,  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1762.  His  father  was  a  small 
tenant  farmer,  of  very  limited  education  and  humble  means,  but 
he  was  considered  learned  for  a  man  in  his  rank  of  life.  He  un- 
derstood land-surveying  well,  and  was  often  chosen  to  draw  the 
plans  of  disputed  territory,  and,  being  honest,  industrious,  and 
frugal,  was  a  man  of  consideration  among  his  neighbors. 

William  says  that  he  does  not  remember  the  time  when  he  did 
not  earn  his  own  living.  His  first  occupation  was  driving  the 


WILLIAM  COBBETT.  539 

small  birds  from  the  turnip-seed,  and  the  rooks  from  the  peas. 
His  next  employment  was  weeding  wheat,  and  leading  a  single 
horse  at  harrowing  barley.  Hoeing  peas  followed,  and  thence  he 
arrived  at  the  honor  of  joining  the  reapers  in  the  harvest,  driving 
the  team,  and  holding  the  plow.  All  the  family  were  strong  and 
laborious,  and  the  father  used  to  boast  that  he  had  four  sons,  the 
eldest  of  whom  was  but  fifteen  years  old,  who  did  as  much  work 
as  any  three  men  in  the  parish  of  Fajnham.  William  says  that 
he  had  some  faint  recollection  of  going  to  school  to  an  old  woman, 
who,  he  fancies,  did  not  succeed  in  the  arduous  undertaking  of 
teaching  him  his  alphabet.  In  the  winter  evenings,  however,  his 
father  taught  him  to  read  and  write,  and  gave  him  some  instruc- 
tion in  arithmetic  and  grammar. 

From  his  infancy  Cobbett  displayed  great  fondness  for  rural 
occupations,  which  he  describes  as  "  healthy,  rational,  and  heart- 
cheering  pursuits,  in  which  every  day  presents  something  new,  in 
which  the  spirits  are  never  suffered  to  flag,  and  in  which  industry, 
skill,  and  care  are  sure  to  meet  with  their  due  reward  ;"  to  which 
he  adds,  "  I  have  never,  for  any  eight  months  together,  during  my 
whole  life,  been  without  a  garden."  Under  the  influence  of  this 
healthful  passion,  he  left  home  at  the  age  of  eleven  with  the  de- 
termination of  seeing  Kew  Gardens,  of  which  he  had  heard  so 
much  that  he  could  not  rest.  He  describes  the  incident  admira- 
bly. "  At  eleven  years  of  age  my  employment  was  clipping  of 
box  edgings  and  weeding  beds  of  flowers  in  the  garden  of  the 
Bishop  of  Winchester  at  the  Castle  of  Farnham.  I  had  always 
been  fond  of  beautiful  flowers,  and  a  gardener,  who  had  just  come 
from  the  king's  gardens  at  Kew,  gave  such  a  description  of  them 
as  made  me  instantly  resolve  to  work  in  these  gardens.  The 
next  morning,  without  saying  a  word  to  any  one,  off  I  set,  with 
no  clothes  except  those  upon  my  back,  and  with  thirteen  halfpence 
in  my  pocket.  I  found  that  I  must  go  to  Eichmond,  and  I  accord- 
ingly went  from  place  to  place,  inquiring  my:  way  thither.  A  long 
day — it  was  in  June — brought  me  to  Richmond  in  the  afternoon. 
Two  pennyworth  of  bread  and  cheese,  and  a  pennyworth  of  small 
beer  which  I  had  on  the  road,  and  a  halfpenny  which  I  had  lost 
somehow  or  other,  left  threepence  in  my  pocket.  With  this  for 
my  whole  fortune,  I  was  trudging  through  Eichmond  in  my  blue 
smock  frock,  and  my  red  gaiters  tied  under  my  knees,  when,  staring 
about  me,  my  eye  fell  upon  a  little  book  in  a  bookseller's  window, 


.540  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

on  the  outside  of  which  was  written,  'Tale  of  a  Tub;  price  3d.' 
The  title  was  so  odd  that  my  curiosity  was  excited.  I  had  the 
threepence,  but  then  I  could  have  no  supper.  In  I  went  and  got 
the  little  book,  which  I  was  so  impatient  to  read  that  I  got  over 
into  a  field  at  the  upper  corner  of  Kew  Garden,  where  there  stood 
a  haystack.  On  the  shady  side  of  this  I  sat  down  to  read.  The 
book  was  so  different  from  any  thing  that  I  had  read  before — it 
was  something  so  new  to  my  mind,  that,  though  I  could  not  at  all 
understand  some  of  it,  it  delighted  me  beyond  description,  and  it 
produced  what  I  have  always  considered  a  birth  of  intellect.  I 
read  on  till  it  was  dark,  without  any  thought  of  supper  or  bed. 
When  I  could  see  no  longer,  I  put  my  little  book  in  my  pocket, 
and  tumbled  down  by  the  side  of  the  stack,  where  I  slept  till  the 
birds  in  Kew  Gardens  awaked  me  in  the  morning,  when  off  I 
started  to  Kew,  reading  my  little  book.  The  singularity  of  my 
dress,  the  simplicity  of  my  manner,  my  confident  and  lively  air, 
and,  doubtless,  his  own  compassion  besides,  induced  the  gardener, 
who  was  a  Scotchman,  to  give  me  victuals,  find  me  a  lodging,  and 
set  me  to  work."  It  is  not  known  how  long  he  remained  at  Kew. 
We  lose  sight  of  him  until  1782,  when,  having  gone  to  visit  a  re- 
lation who  lived  in  the  neighborhood  of  Portsmouth,  he  first  be- 
held the  sea.  Every  young  lad  falls  in  love  with  that  element, 
and  Cobbett  was  no  exception  to  the  rule.  He  saw  the  English 
fleet  riding  at  anchor,  and  his  heart  expanded  with  national  pride. 
The  next  morning  he  walked  down  to  the  beach,  got  into  a  boat, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  was  on  board  the  Pegasus  man-of-war. 
Here  he  endeavored  to  enlist  in  the  naval  service,  but  without 
success.  The  captain  advised  him  to  go  home,  but  he  was  not  so 
easily  dissuaded.  He  made  an  attempt  to  get  his  name  enrolled 
in  another  vessel,  but  here  again  the  captain  advised  him  to  go 
home.  Very  reluctantly  he  did  so  ;  but  his  peace  of  mind  was 
gone.  He  dreamed  of  the  sea,  and  of  traveling  round  the  world. 
Farnham — even  England — became  too  small  for  him.  He  de- 
termined to  escape.  Accordingly,  on  the  6th  of  May,  1783,  he 
sallied  forth  to  seek  adventures.  "  I  was  dressed  in  my  holiday 
clothes,  in  order  to  accompany  two  or  three  lasses  to  Guildford 
Fair.  They  were  to  assemble  at  a  house  about  three  miles  from 
my  home,  where  I  was  to  attend  them  ;  but,  unfortunately  for  me, 
I  had  to  cross  the  London  turnpike-road.  The  stage-coach  had 
just  turned  the  summit  of  a  hill,  and  was  rattling  down  toward 


WILLIAM  COBBETT.  541 

me  at  a  merry  rate.  The  notion  of  going  to  London  never  entered 
my  mind  till  this  very  moment,  yet  the  step  was  completely  de- 
termined on  before  the  coach  came  to  the  spot  where  I  stood. 
Up  I  got,  and  was  in  London  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
It  was  by  mere  accident  that  I  had  money  enough  to  defray  the 
expenses  of  this  day.  Being  rigged  out  for  the  fair,  I  had  three 
or  four  crown  and  half  crown  pieces  (which  most  certainly  I  did 
not  intend  to  spend),  besides  a  few  shillings  and  halfpence.  This, 
my  little  all,  which  I  had  been  years  in  amassing,  melted  away 
like  snow  before  the  sun  when  touched  by  the  fingers  of  the  inn- 
keepers and  their  waiters.  In  short,  when  I  arrived  at  Ludgate 
Hill,  and  had  paid  my  fare,  I  had  but  about  half  a  crown  in  my 
pocket."  Fortunately,  he  had  succeeded  in  making  the  acquaint- 
ance of  a  passenger — a  hop  merchant  from  Southwark — who  knew 
his  father,  and  who  was  disposed  to  lend  a  helping  hand  to  the 
young  man.  He  invited  him  to  his  house,  which  he  told  him  he 
might  look  upon  as  his  home  till  something  turned  up.  In  the 
mean  time  he  wrote  to  his  father,  advising  him  of  what  had  taken 
place.  The  latter  desired  Cobbett  to  return  immediately,  but  a 
mistaken  sense  o~f  false  delicacy  prevented  his  doing  so.  At  length 
a  situation  as  copying  clerk  in  a  lawyer's  office  was  obtained  for 
him,  and  for  nearly  a  year  he  went  through  the  wretched  drudgery 
of  that  occupation — the  only  portion  of  his  life,  he  says,  which  was 
"  totally  unattended  with  pleasure."  It  is  not  easy  to  escape  from 
a  lawyer's  office  into  a  higher  sphere  of  usefulness,  and  to  this  cir- 
cumstance we  may  perhaps  attribute  Cobbett's  lengthened  experi- 
ment in  the  gloom  and  wretchedness  of  the  law.  One  fine  spring 
morning  in  1784,  while  strolling  through  St.  James's  Park,  to 
cheer  himself  "  with  the  sight  of  the  trees,  the  grass,  and  the 
water,"  he  read  an  advertisement  inviting  all  loyal  young  men  to 
serve  their  country,  and  reap  honor  and  riches  in  that  patriotic 
undertaking.  Any  life  was  welcome  to  Cobbett,  provided  it  did 
not  revolve  on  the  high  stool  of  an  attorney's  office.  Without 
troubling  himself  about  inquiries,  he  took  the  king's  shilling,  and 
became  a  private  in  the  54th  regiment.  He  remained  about  a 
year  at  Chatham,  during  which  time  he  learned  his  duties  thor- 
oughly, and  occupied  his  leisure  in  reading  and  study.  He  says 
that  during  this  year  he  learned  more  than  he  had  ever  done  be- 
fore. Whatever  books  came  in  his  way  (and  he  subscribed  to  a 
circulating  library)  he  read  with  avidity,  but,  it  is  to  be  feared, 


542  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

with  little  profit.  Knowledge  is  not  gained  by  skimming  over 
the  gilded  surface  of  novels,  dramas,  poems,  etc.  One  branch  of 
knowledge,  however,  he  searched  to  the  bottom — the  grammar  of 
his'mother  tongue.  Cobbett  procured  a  copy  of  Lowth's  Gram- 
mar, and  applied  himself  to  the  study  of  it  with  unceasing  assi- 
duity. It  was  a  considerable  time  before  he  could  comprehend 
all  that  he  read,  but  the  light  shone  in  upon  him  at  last.  "The 
pains  I  took,"  he  says,  "  can  not  be  described.  I  wrote  the  whole 
grammar  out  two  or  three  times.  I  got  it  by  heart.  I  repeated 
it  every  morning  and  every  evening,  and  when  on  guard.  I  im- 
posed on  myself  the  task  of  saying  it  all  over  once  every  time  I 
was  posted  sentinel.  To  this  exercise  of  my  memory  I  ascribe 
the  retentiousness  of  which  I  have  since  found  it  capable  ;  and  to 
the  success  with  which  it  was  attended,  I  ascribe  the  perseverance 
that  has  led  to  the  acquirement  of  the  little  learning  of  which  I 
am  master." 

A  few  months  after  his  enlistment,  the  detachment  to  which  he 
belonged  sailed  for  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia,  previous  to  which  he  had 
been  promoted  to  the  rank  of  corporal.  From  Nova  Scotia  he 
proceeded  with  his  regiment  to  St.  John's  and  New  Brunswick. 
By  the  end  of  his  third  year  in  the  army  he  was  promoted  to  the 
rank  of  sergeant  major  over  the  heads  of  thirty  sergeants — no 
slight  compliment  to  his  abilities  and  attention.  He  refers  to  this 
period  of  his  life  :  "  Before  my  promotion  a  clerk  was  wanted  to 
make  out  the  morning  report  of  the  regiment.  I  rendered  the 
clerk  unnecessary ;  and,  long  before  any  other  man  was  dressed 
for  the  parade,  my  work  for  the  morning  was  all  done,  and  I  my- 
self was  on  the  parade,  walking,  in  fine  weather,  perhaps  for  an 
hour.  My  custom  was  thus :  to  get  up,  in  summer,  at  daylight, 
and  in  winter  at  four  o'clock ;  shave,  dress,  even  to  the  putting 
on  my  sword-belt  over  my  shoulder,  and  having  my  sword  lying 
on  the  table  before  me  ready  to  hang  by  my  side.  Then  I  ate  a 
bit  of  cheese,  or  pork  and  bread.  Then  I  prepared  my  report, 
which  was  filled  up  as  fast  as  the  companies  brought  me  in  the 
materials.  After  this  I  had  an  hour  or  two  to  read  before  the 
time  came  for  my  duty  out  of  ddors,  unless  when  the  regiment  or 
part  of  it  went  to  exercise  in  the  morning." 

While  at  New  Brunswick  Cobbett  made  the  acquaintance  of 
his  future  wife.  She  w&s  then  but  thirteen  years  of  age,  and  his 
attention  was  directed  todier  by  seeing  her,  one  frosty  morning  at 


WILLIAM  COBBETT.  543 

daybreak,  scouring  out  the  washing-tub  before  her  father's  door. 
"  That's  the  girl  for  me,"  said  Cobbett  to  his  companions.  "  From 
the  day  that  I  first  spoke  to  her,  I  never  had  a  thought  of  her  ever 
being  the  wife  of  any  other  man  more  than  I  had  a  thought  of 
her  being  transformed  into  a  chest  of  drawers ;  and  I  formed  my 
resolution  at  once  to  marry  her  as  soon  as  we  could  get  permis- 
sion, and  to  get  out  of  the  army  as  soon  as  I  could  ;  so  that  this 
matter  was  at  once  settled  as  firmly  as  if  written  in  the  book  of 
Fate."  About  six  months  after  arriving  at  this  determination  the 
object  of  his  affection  left  for  England ;  and  "  now  it  was,"  says 
Cobbett,  "  that  I  acted  a  part  becoming  a  real  and  sensible  lover. 
I  was  aware  that  when  she  got  to  that  gay  place,  Woolwich  (her 
father  was  in  the  artillery),  the  house  of  her  father  and  mother, 
necessarily  visited  by  numerous  persons  not  the  most  select,  might 
become  unpleasant  to  her,  and  I  did  not  like,  besides,  that  she 
should  continue  to  work  hard.  I  had  saved  150  guineas,  the 
earnings  of  my  early  hours  in  writing  for  the  paymaster,  the  quar- 
ter-master, and  others,  in  addition  to  the  savings  of  my  own  pay. 
I  sent  her  all  my  money  before  she  sailed,  and  wrote  to  her  to 
beg  of  her,  if  she  found  her  home  uncomfortable,  to  hire  a  lodging 
with  respectable  people  ;  and,  at  any  rate,  not  to  spare  the  money 
by  any  means,  but  to  buy  herself  good  clothes,  and  to  live  with- 
out hard  work  until  I  arrived  in  England." 

Owing  to  a  difficulty  with  Spain,  Cobbett  was  unable  to  get  his 
discharge  for  four  years.  At  the  end  of  that  time  he  landed  at 
Portsmouth,  and  immediately  set  out  in  search  of  his  lady-love. 
He  found  her  working  very  hard  in  a  private  family  as  a  servant- 
of-all-work.  As  soon  as  the  greetings  were  over  (that  is  to  say, 
over  for  a  moment  or  two),  the  dear  little  girl  ran  to  her  box  and 
produced  the  150  guineas  untouched.  In  a  few  months  they  were 
man  and  wife,  and  ten  years  later  he  wrote  that  to  "  her  gentle- 
ness, prudence,  and  fortitude  I  owe  whatever  I  enjoy  of  pleasure, 
of  fortune,  or  of  reputation."  Immediately  after  the  honeymoon 
(March,  1792)  he  made  a  trip  to  France,  where  he  remained  for 
six  months.  It  was  his  intention  to  have  staid  longer,  but  the 
events  of  the  Revolution  were  hurrying  on,  and  Cobbett  thought 
it  would  be  most  prudent  to  leave  the  country.  From  Havre  de 
Grace  he  embarked  for  America,  and  landed  at  New  York  in  Oc- 
tober, 1792. 

It  is  not  very  clear  what  was  his  intention  in  coming  to  Amer- 


544  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

ica.  His  finances  were  at  a  low  ebb,  and  he  knew  very  little 
about  trade.  He  had,  however,  a  letter  of  recommendation  from 
the  American  embassador  at  the  Hague  to  Mr.  Jefferson,  at  that 
time  Secretary  of  State,  and  may,  perhaps,  have  looked  on  this  as 
a  golden  key  to  fortune.  He  forwarded  the  document  to  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson, who,  in  reply,  told  him  that  public  offices  were  so  few  in 
America,  and  of  so  little  value,  as  to  offer  no  resource  to  talent. 
As  it  was  now  absolutely  necessary  to  do  something  for  a  living, 
Cobbett  determined  to  try  his  hand  at  teaching,  and  accordingly 
took  up  his  abode  in  Philadelphia,  with  the  intention  of  offering 
his  services  to  Frenchmen  as  a  teacher  of  English.  We  are  not 
informed  of  his  success,  but  he  refers  occasionally  to  his  pupils, 
which  indicates  that  he  was  not  wholly  without  patronage. 

In  1794  Cobbett  commenced  his  career  of  author.  He  was  in 
his  thirty-third  year,  excessively  patriotic,  and  a  thorough-going 
Tory  in  every  respect.  The  event  which  induced  him  to  seize 
the  pen  was  the  arrival  of  Dr.  Priestley  in  the  United  States.  A 
pamphlet  attacking  that  gentleman,  and  entitled  Observations  on 
the  Emigration  of  Doctor  Joseph  Priestley,  by  Peter  Porcupine,  was 
his  first  effusion.  He  first  offered  this  production  to  Mr.  Carey, 
of  Philadelphia,  "Mr.  Carey  received  me,"  says  Cobbett,  "as 
booksellers  generally  receive  authors  (I  mean  authors  whom  they 
get  little  by).  He  looked  at  the  title  from  top  to  bottom,  and 
then  at  me  from  head  to  foot.  '  No,  my  lad,''  says  he,  '  I  don't 
think  it  will  suit.'  "  He  then  went  to  Mr.  Bradford,  who  agreed 
to  publish  it,  and  divide  the  profits,  which,  we  arc  informed  with 
great  exactness,  amounted  to  one  shilling  and  seven  pence  half- 
penny currency,  or  eleven  pence  three  farthings  sterling !  The 
pamphlet  attracted  attention,  however,  and  the  vigorous  style  of 
the  author  was  in  demand.  During  the  next  two  years  he  wrote 
several  pamphlets,  obtaining  for  them  the  following  prices  :  Ob- 
servations (before  referred  to),  20  cents ;  Bone  to  Gnaiv,  Part  /., 
125  dollars  ;  Kick  for  a  Bite,  20  dollars ;  Bone  to  Gnaw,  Part  77., 
40  dollars  ;  Plain  English,  100  dollars  ;  New  Year's  Gift,  100  dol- 
lars; Prospect,  18  dollars.  Total,  403  dollars,  20  cents. 

Encouraged  by  the  success  of  these  publications,  Cobbett  de- 
termined to  reap  all  the  benefit  which  might  accrue  from  his  pen, 
and  in  the  spring  of  1796  commenced  business  in  Philadelphia  as 
a  bookseller.  Up  to  this  time  the  secrecy  of  his  nomine  de  plume 
had  been  preserved,  and  he  was  known  pimply  as  Peter  Porcu- 


WILLIAM  COBBETT.  545 

pine.  He  had  hosts  of  enemies,  but,  so  long  as  he  preserved  his 
incognito,  their  indignation  was  of  little  avail ;  but  when  he  an- 
nounced his  intention  to  open  a  shop,  and  sell  his  own  pamphlets 
as  his  own  productions,  his  best  friends  became  alarmed.  But  Jie 
did  so,  and  took  a  store  of  such  magnificent  proportions,  that  a 
local  paper  declared  on  the  spot  that  he  was  a  British  spy,  and 
"  Billy  Pitt's  agent."  Soon  after  he  had  opened  his  establishment 
he  commenced  a  daily  newspaper  called  Porcupines  Gazette,  which 
he  continued  for  some  years  at  the  expense  of  French  republican- 
ism and  American  democracy,  both  of  which  he  ridiculed  with 
the  fiercest  sarcasm.  Writing  as  he  did  with  the  most  scrupu- 
lous disregard  to  private  feelings,  it  is  nothing  but  natural  that  he 
exposed  himself  to  prosecutions  from  all  quarters.  Two  libel 
suits  were  brought  against  him,  one  at  the  instance  of  the  Span- 
ish minister,  which  was  lost,  and  one  at  the  instance  of  Dr.  Rush, 
of  Philadelphia.  The  latter  gentleman  succeeded  in  obtaining  a 
verdict  of  $5000  against  Cobbett,  which  sum  was  subscribed  by 
his  admirers  in  a  few  days.  But  the  verdict  rankled  in  Cobbett's 
mind,  and  he  remembered  it  in  his  parting  address  to  America. 
This  document  is  curious,  and  was  published  on  the  1st  of  June, 
1800,  Avhen  he  sailed  from  New  York  for  England.  Addressing 
the  people  of  the  United  States,  he  says,  "You  will  doubtless  be 
astonished  that,  after  having  had  such  a  smack  of  the  sweets  of 
liberty,  I  should  think  of  rising  thus  abruptly  from  the  feast ;  but 
this  astonishment  will  cease  when  you  consider  that,  under  a  gen- 
eral term,  things  diametrically  opposite  in  their  natures  are  fre- 
quently included,  and  that  flavors  are  not  more  various  than  tastes. 
Thus,  for  instance,  nourishment  of  every  species  is  called  food, 
and  we  all  like  food ;  but,  while  one  is  partial  to  roast  beef  and 
plum  pudding,  another  is  distractedly  fond  of  flummery  and  mush. 
So  it  is  with  respect  to  liberty,  of  which,  out  of  its  infinite  variety 
of  sorts,  yours,  unfortunately,  happens  to  be  the  sort  which  I  do 
not  like.  *  *  To  my  friends,  who  are  also  the  real  friends  of 
America,  I  wish  that  peace  and  happiness  which  virtue  ought  to 
insure,  but  which  I  greatly  fear  they  will  not  find  ;  and  as  to  my 
enemies,  I  can  wish  them  no  severer  scourge  than  that  which  they 
are  preparing  for  themselves  and  their  country.  With  this  I  de- 
part for  my  native  land,  where  neither  the  moth  of  democracy  nor 
the  rust  of  federalism  doth  corrupt,  and  where  thieves  do  not  with 
impunity  break  through  and  steal  $5000  at  a  time."  With  Cob- 


546  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

belt's  feelings,  the  best  thing  he  could  do  was  to  go  back  to  En- 
gland. He  was  evidently  unfit  for  America. 

Immediately  on  his  arrival  in  England  he  paid  a  visit  to  the 
pla.ce  of  his  birth.  His  ideas  had  been  expanded  by  his  visit  to 
America,  and  he  wrote  as  follows :  "  The  trees,  the  hedges,  even 
the  parks  and  woods  seemed  so  small!  It  made  me  laugh  to  hear 
little  gutters  that  I  could  jump  over  called  rivers.  Th§  Thames 
was  a  creek.  But  when,  in  about  a  month  after  my  arrival  in 
London,  I  went  to  Farnham,  the  place  of  my  birth,  what  was  my 
surprise  !  Every  thing  was  become  so  pitifully  small/  I  had  to 
cross,  in  my  post-chaise,  the  long  and  dreary  heath  of  Bagshot ; 
then,  at  the  end  of  it,  to  mount  a  hill  called  Hungry  Hill ;  and 
from  that  hill  I  knew  that  I  should  look  down  into  the  beautiful 
and  fertile  vale  of  Farnham.  My  heart  fluttered  with  impatience, 
mixed  with  a  sort  of  fear,  to  see  all  the  scenes  of  my  childhood, 
for  I  had  learned  before  the  death  of  my  father  and  mother.  There 
is  a  hill  not  far  from  the  town  called  Crooksbury  Hill,  which  rises 
up  out  of  a  flat  in  the  form  of  a  cone,  and  is  planted  with  Scotch 
fir-trees.  Here  I  used  to  take  the  eggs  and  young  ones  of  crows 
and  magpies.  This  hill  was  a  famous  object  in  the  neighborhood. 
It  served  as  the  superlative  degree  of  height.  'As  high  as  Crooks- 
bury  Hill'  meant,  with  us,  the  utmost  degree  of  height.  There- 
fore the  first  object  that  my  eyes  sought  was  this  hill.  I  could 
not  believe  my  eyes.  Literally  speaking,  I  for  a  moment  thought 
the  famous  hill  removed,  and  a  little  heap  put  in  its  place ;  for  I 
had  seen  in  New  Brunswick  a  single  rock,  or  hill  of  solid  rock, 
ten  times  as  big,  and  four  or  five  times  as  high !"  Shortly  after 
the  conclusion  of  this  tour,  the  first  number  of  the  Porcupine  made 
its  appearance  (October,  1800),  but,  although  perfectly  fierce,  it 
did  not  attract  much  attention,  and  in  the  following  year  amalga- 
mated with  another  daily  paper  called  the  True  Briton,  soon  after 
which  event  Mr.  Cobbett  ceased  to  have  any  connection  with  it. 
He  then  commenced  the  business  of  bookselling  in  connection 
with  a  partner  of  the  name  of  Morgan,  at  the  sign  of  the  "  Crown 
and  Mitre,"  Pall  Mall. 

The  first  number  of  the  Weekly  Political  Register,  a  periodical 
from  which  Cobbett  derives  most  of  his  fame,  appeared  in  Janu- 
ary, 1802,  and  from  that  time  to  the  year  1835,  when  he  died, 
that  "  faithful  record  of  his  delightful  egotism,  his  extreme  opin- 
ionativeness,  his  matchless  invective  against  all  public  offenders. 


WILLIAM  COBBETT.  547 

and  his  numberless  schemes  for  putting  public  affairs  in  perfect 
order,  was  kept  up  to  the  last  with  unabated  vigor  by  the  mar- 
velous force  of  his  single  pen."  For  the  first  two  or  three  years 
he  tried  to  make  the  Register  what  it  purported  to  be — a  complete 
record  of  political  intelligence ;  but  the  dry  labor  and  routine  of 
this  scheme  did  not  become  pleasant  by  custom,  and  he  soon  per- 
ceived that  the  public  cared  more  for  what  he  wrote  and  thought 
than  what  he  registered.  So  he  wrote  more  and  compiled  less. 
The  result  was  a  complete  success,  and  the  Register  obtained  a 
circulation  of  4000  copies,  notwithstanding  its  high  price  of  twenty 
cents  a  number.  At  first  he  espoused  the  Tory  side,  but,  after 
some  experience,  he  professed  himself  disgusted  with  that  party, 
and  advocated  popular  reforms.  He  wrote  with  amazing  facility, 
and  yet  with  strength,  grace,  and  poetic  warmth.  In  his  style, 
says  a  popular  writer,  he  has  been  compared  to  Swift,  to  Defoe, 
and  sometimes  to  Franklin  ;  nor  would  it  be  difficult  to  find  many 
passages  in  the  Register  bearing  no  small  resemblance  to  each  of 
these  writers.  But,  with  much  of  the  circumstantial,  graphic 
narration-talent  of  Defoe,  the  charming  simplicity  and  homely 
wisdom  of  Franklin,  the  idiomatic  terseness  and  humor  of  Swift, 
there  is  an  abounding  heartiness  and  a  garrulity  in  most  of  his 
writings  which  stamps  them  with  a  special  charm,  for  which  we 
might  search  in  vain  through  most  political  writers. 

Cobbett's  leaning  to  the  popular  party  became  very  decided  in 
1804,  and, his  attacks  on  Mr.  Pitt  correspondingly  severe.  He 
had  a  happy  faculty  of  nicknaming  his  opponents,  and  of  speak- 
ing of  them  generally  in  a  way  that  was  far  from  pleasant.  The 
members  of  the  government,  now  the  special  objects  of  his  attack, 
hated  and  feared  him.  No  opportunity  of  crushing  his  power  was 
allowed  to  pass  unimproved.  In  1804  he  was  convicted  for  libel, 
on  the  ground  that  he  had  published  articles  tending  to  bring  the 
Earl  of  Hardwick,  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  and  several  Irish 
officials,  into  contempt.  He  was  sentenced  to  pay  a  fine  of  £500- 
Two  days  after,  Mr.  Plunkett,  Attorney  General  for  Ireland, 
brought  an  action  against  him,  laying  the  damages  at  £10,000. 
The  jury  returned  a  verdict  against  Cobbett,  and  he  had  to  pay 
another  five  hundred  pounds.  These  prosecutions  were  intended 
to  silence  Cobbett,  but  they  had  precisely  the  opposite  effect,  and 
his  merciless  blows  fell  thick  and  heavy  on  the  ministerial  shoul- 
ders. In  180t)  he  made  some  very  severe  remarks  on  the  flogging 


548  SELF-MADE  MI.N 

of  five  soldiers  belonging  to  a  militia  regiment  then  stationed  at 
Ely,  under  a  guard  of  the  German  Legion.  The  attorney  general 
commenced  a  prosecution,  and  on  the  15th  of  June,  1810,  Cobbett 
was  again  found  guilty.  This  time  the  ministers  were  determined 
to  crush  him :  he  was  sentenced  to  be  imprisoned  in  Newgate  for 
two  years,  to  pay  a  fine  of  £1000,  and,  at  the  expiration  of  thje 
two  years,  to  give  security  for  his  good  behavior  for  seven  years, 
himself  in  £3000,  and  two  securities  at  £1000  each.  In  the 
Register  of  the  14th  of  July,  1810  (four  days  after  sentence  had 
been  passed),  he  says :  "  After  having  published  seventeen  vol- 
umes of  this  work,  embracing  the  period  of  eight  years  and  a  half, 
during  which  time  I  have  written  with  my  own  hand  nearly  two 
thousand  articles  upon  various  subjects,  without  having,  except 
in  one  single  instance,  incurred  even  the  threats  of  the  law,  I  be- 
gin the  eighteenth  volume  in  a  prison.  In  this  respect,  however, 
I  only  share  the  lot  of  many  men  who  have  inhabited  this  prison 
before  me ;  nor  have  I  the  smallest  doubt  that  I  shall  be  enabled 
to  follow  the  example  of  those  men.  On  the  triumphing,  the 
boundless  joy,  the  feasting  and  shouting  of  the  peculators  or  pub- 
lic robbers,  and  of  all  those,  whether  profligate  or  hypocritical  vil- 
lains, of  whom  I  have  been  the  scourge,  I  look  with  contempt, 
knowing  very  well,  feeling  in  my  heart  that  my  situation,  even  at 
this  time,  is  infinitely  preferable  to  theirs ;  and  as  to  the  future, 
I  can  reasonably  promise  myself  days  of  peace  and  happiness, 
while  continual  dread  must  haunt  their  guilty  minds,  while  every 
stir  and  every  sound  must  make  them  quake  for  fear.  Their  day 
is  yet  to  come !"  Mr.  Cobbett  neither  forgot  nor  forgave  this 
imprisonment ;  it  became  the  topic  of  his  life,  and  whenever  he 
wanted  an  illustration  of  the  blackest  tyranny,  he  referred  to  it 
with  savage  pleasure.  Coming  as  it  did  at  a  moment  when  he 
was  at  the  height  of  his  political  popularity,  and  when  he  was 
surrounded  by  all  the  comforts  of  a  happy  home  in  the  country, 
it  is  not  remarkable  that  he  felt  with  double  acuteness  the  injus- 
tice of  which  he  was  the  victim.  But  while  in  prison,  he  never 
allowed  his  spirits  to  sink ;  that  would  have  been  a  triumph  for 
his  enemies.  He  continued  his  regular  avocations,  wrote  from 
week  to  week  to  his  readers  in  the  Register,  and  carried  on  his 
farm  by  letter  also.  He  had  so  much  writing  to  execute  that  he- 
found  it  absolutely  necessary  to  have  one  or  two  of  his  children 
with  him.  For  the  use  of  a  part  of  the  keeper's  house  he  had  to 
pay  the  enormous  rent  of  "twelve  guinea?  a  week." 


WILLIAM  COBBETT.  549 

On  his  liberation  in  1812,  a  public  dinner  was  given  to  Mr. 
Cobbett,  at  which  the  celebrated  Sir  Francis  Burdett  presided, 
and  from  this  moment  he  was  looked  upon  as  a  martyr  in  the 
public  cause.  He  applied  himself  to  the  interests  of  his  adherents 
with  his  usual  enthusiasm ;  but  the  fines  he  had  to  pay,  added  to 
the  fleecing  sustained  while  in  prison,  and  the  unavoidable  neg- 
lect of  his  interests  during  two  years,  placed  him  in  a  position  of 
much  embarrassment.  He  struggled  against  pecuniary  difficul- 
ties of  the  most  oppressive  kind ;  but  the  fall  in  the  price  of  agri- 
cultural produce  which  followed  the  termination  of  the  American 
war,  added  to  circumstances  of  a  purely  political  nature,  thorough- 
ly alarmed  him,  and  induced  him  to  fly  to  America  (1817).  The 
ostensible  cause  of  his  leaving  England  was  his  fear  of  again  being 
sent  to  jail.  According  to  his  representation,  ministers,  in  bring- 
ing forward  the  Six  Acts  Bill  for  suppressing  freedom  of  discus- 
sion, had  mainly  in  view  the  Weekly  Register,  which  had  been  re- 
duced to  four  cents  some  months  previously,  and  had  attained  a 
weekly  circulation  of  50,000.  From  his  farewell  address,  it  would 
seem  that  he  was  under  the  influence  of  a  panic,  in  which  pecun- 
iary and  political  considerations  seem  to  have  had  an  equal  share. 
He  was  clearly  of  opinion  that  England  was  going  to  ruin,  and, 
with  less  patriotism  than  we  might  have  expected,  he  made  up 
his  mind  to  desert  her. 

Accordingly,  he  removed  to  America,  and  for  two  years  and  a 
half  wrote  his  Registers  on  this  side  the  Atlantic.  To  indulge  his 
rural  habits,  he  took  a  farm  at  Hyde  Park,  Long  Island,  where, 
in  May,  1819,  he  suffered  a  severe  loss,  his  house  and  the  greater 
part  of  his  farming  stock  being  consumed  by  fire.  Five  months 
after  this  event  he  made  up  his  mind  to  return  to  England,  and 
in  November  arrived  at  Liverpool,  bearing  with  him  the  bones  of 
Thomas  Paine,  for  whose  genius  he  had  suddenly  conceived  a  sin- 
gular regard,  based,  it  is  said,  on  his  opposition  to  the  funding 
system,  which  Cobbett  detested.  Soon  after  his  arrival  in  the 
English  metropolis  he  started  a  daily  paper,  called  Cobbetfs  Even- 
ing Post,  which  run  a  rapid  jcareer  of  two  months,  and  then  died. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  he  resolved  to  apply  himself  exclusively 
to  the  Register.  In  1820  he  made  his  first  attempt  to  enter  Par- 
liament, but  was  defeated.  In  1826  he  repeated  the  experiment, 
with  no  better  success.  In  April,  1830,  he  issued  an  address, 
the  impudent  egotism  of  which  is  remarkable,  recommending  that 


550  SELF-MADE  MKN. 

a  subscription  should  be  opened  in  every  county  in  England  for 
the  purpose  of  purchasing  for  him  an  estate  sufficient  for  the  qual- 
ification of  two  members — himself  and  another  whom  he  should 
nominate  to  work  within  him.  The  sum  required  was  £10,000  ; 
the  sum  subscribed  was  £27  2s. 

In  1831  Mr.  Cobbett  was  again  tried  for  libel.  In  this  case  it 
was  alleged  that  an  article  he  had  written,  called  "The  liural 
War,"  was  calculated  to  excite  agricultural  laborers  to  acts  of 
sedition,  insurrection,  and  arson.  Cobbett  defended  himself  in 
person,  and  delivered  an  able  speech  of  six  hours  and  a  half. 
The  attorney  general  then  replied,  and,  after  Lord  Tenterden  had 
summed  up,  the  jury  retired  at  five  minutes  past  six  o'clock.  No 
verdict  was  given  during  the  night,  and  at  a  little  before  nine  in 
the  morning  the  jury  stated  that  they  could  not  agree ;  upon  which 
they  were  discharged,  and  Cobbett  was  set  at  liberty.  A  remark- 
ably narrow  escape. 

The  first  general  election  after  the  passage  of  the  Reform  Bill 
saw  Mr.  Cobbett  elected  to  the  English  House  of  Parliament  as 
representative  for  the  borough  of  Oldham.  He  polled  a  very  large 
vote,  and  headed  his  opponent  by  four  to  one.  On  the  31st  of 
January,  1833,  he  delivered  his  maiden  speech,  which  produced 
no  small  amount  of  merriment  by  the  homely  colloquial  style  in 
which  it  was  couched.  Subsequently  the  members  tried  to  in- 
terrupt him  by  calling  out  "Question!  question!"  and  "Divide! 
divide !"  but  Mr.  Cobbett  convinced  the  house  that  the  task  of 
crying  him  down  was  a  hopeless  one.  He  was  allowed  to  have 
his  talk  in  his  own  way ;  but  it  soon  became  evident  even  to  his 
warmest  admirers  that  he  was  not  destined  to  shine  to  advantage 
in  the  House  of  Commons.  Nor  was  the  change  of  habits  neces- 
sary to  his  duties  agreeable  to  him.  At  all  times  overworked,  lie 
had  maintained  his  health  by  the  observance  of  the  most  regular 
and  healthful  habits.  Night-work  in  the  confined  atmosphere  of 
the  house  made  ruinous  encroachments  on  his  constitution,  and 
laid  the  foundation  of  the  illness  which  finally  carried  him  off. 
However,  Mr.  Cobbett  was  re-elected  for  Oldham  in  1834,  and 
resumed  his  duties  in  spite  of  a  severe  inflammatory  attack  from 
which  he  was  suffering.  A  motion  was  brought  on  for  the  repeal 
of  the  malt  tax,  and  Mr.  Cobbett  attempted  to  speak  in  favor  of  it, 
but,  owing  to  inflammation  of  the  throat,  he  could  not  make  him- 
self heard.  He  remained  to  vote  on  the  occasion,  thereby  increas- 


WILLIAM  COBBETT.  551 

ing  the  complaint.  A  similar  instance  occurred  soon  after,  and 
Cobbett  saw  the  necessity  of  attending  to  himself.  He  repaired 
to  his  farm  near  Farnham,  and  in  a  few  weeks  appeared  to  be  on 
the  high  road  to  health ;  but  he  calculated  too  much  on  his  own 
strength,  and  was  imprudent  enough  to  take  tea  in  the  open  air. 
A  violent  relapse  Avas  the  consequence,  and  he  lingered  for  a  week, 
during  which  he  recovered  so  far  as  to  talk  pleasantly  and  jovially 
of  his  various  occupations.  On  the  day  previous  to  his  death  he 
could  not  rest  in  the  house,  but  insisted  on  being  carried  round 
the  farm.  It  was  the  last  strong  impulse  of  his  hardy  nature. 
About  four  o'clock  on  the  following  morning  (18th  of  June,  1835), 
William  Cobbett  expired,  aged  seventy-four  years.  "On  the  27th 
of  June  the  funeral  took  place  from  Normandy  farm.  The  pro- 
cession was  attended  by  Mr.  Fielden,  M.  P.,  Mr.  O'Connell,  and 
several  other  members  of  Parliament.  By  the  time  it  had  reached 
Farnham,  it  was  swelled  by  thousands  of  laborers  in  their  smock 
frocks  and  straw  hats,  who  followed  the  procession  to  the  church- 
yard, where  the  mortal  remains  of  England's  greatest  self-taught 
prose  writer  were  deposited  beside  those  of  his  humble  ancestors." 

The  best  of  Mr.  Cobbett's  works  have  been  largely  reprinted  in 
the  United  States,  and  it  is  almost  unnecessary  to  speak  of  their 
excellence.  He  was  a  most  voluminous  writer,  and  the  strongest 
partisan  politician  that  ever  lived.  Pervading  all  his  productions 
is  a  delightful  aroma  of  country  life,  intensified  by  scraps  of  per- 
sonal adventure,  related  in  a  vein  so  genial,  forcible,  and  truthful, 
that  it  is  doubtful  if  any  thing  superior  can  be  found  in  English 
literature.  Cobbett  was  an  author  by  instinct.  He  knew  little 
of  what  is  called  art,  and  even  scorned  that  little ;  but  no  one  can 
read  his  best  productions  without  feeling  that  the  essence  of  art, 
truthfulness,  is  there.  As  a  reformer,  he  was,  perhaps,  the  most 
influential  man  that  ever  lived,  although  the  inconsistencies  into 
which  he  frequently  threw  himself  detracted  from  his  power,  and 
induced  even  his  friends  to  "doubt  every  thing  except  his  integrity. 

"  On  the  subject  of  the  intellectual  character  of  this  remark- 
able man,"  says  a  writer  in  the  English  Cyclopctdia,  "  there  is  al- 
ready a  more  general  agreement  of  opinion  than  might  have  been 
expected,  considering  the  vehement  partisanship  of  the  greater 
portion  of  what  he  has  written.  His  mind  was  one  of  extraordi- 
nary native  vigor,  but,  apparently,  not  well  fitted  by  original  en- 
dowment, any  more  than  by  acquirement,  for  speculations  of  the 


552  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

highest  kind.  Cobbett's  power  lay  in  wielding  more  effectively, 
perhaps,  than  they  were  ever  wielded  before,  those  weapons  of 
controversy  which  tell  upon  what,  in  the  literal  acceptation  of  the 
words,  may  be  called  the  common  sense  of  mankind  ;  that  is,  those 
feelings  and  capacities  which  nearly  all  men  possess,  in  contradis- 
tinction to  those  of  a  more  refined  and  exquisite  character,  which 
belong  to  a  comparatively  small  number.  To  these  higher  feel- 
ings and  powers  he  has  nothing  to  say ;  they,  and  all  things  that 
they  delight  in,  are  uniformly  treated  by  him  with  a  scorn,  real 
or  affected,  more  frank  and  reckless,  certainly,  in  its  expression 
than  they  have  met  with  from  any  other  great  writer.  He  cares 
for  nothing  but  what  is  cared  for  by  the  multitude,  and  by  the 
multitude,  too,  only  of  his  own  day,  and,  it  may  be  even  said,  of 
his  own  country.  Shakspeare,  the  British  Museum,  antiquity, 
posterity,  America,  France,  Germany,  are,  one  and  all,  either 
wholly  indifferent  to  him,  or  the  objects  of  his  bitter  contempt. 
But  in  his  proper  line  he  is  matchless.  When  he  has  a  subject 
that  suits  him,  he  handles  it,  not  so  much  with  the  artificial  skill 
of  an  accomplished  writer,  as  with  the  perfect  and  inimitable  nat- 
ural art  with  which  a  dog  picks  a  bone.  There  are  many  things 
that  other  men  can  do  which  he  can  not  attempt ;  but  this  he  can 
do,  as  none  but  himself  can  or  ever  could  do  it." 


AMOS  WHITTEMORE. 

AMOS  WHITTEMORE,  the  inventor  of  the  card  machine,  was  born 
at  Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  April  19th,  1759.  His  father  was 
a  small  farmer,  whose  means  were  limited,  but  whose  industry  en- 
abled him  to  rear  a  large  family  in  a  creditable  manner,  and  give 
to  his  children  the  rudiments  of  an  English  education. 

Of  the  early  life  of  Amos  we  know  but  little,  and  for  that  little 
are  indebted  to  Mr.  Howe.  He  was  engaged  in  the  usual  avoca- 
tions of  the  farm,  rendering  what  small  assistance  lay  in  his  power 
to  his  father.  At  an  early  age  he  manifested  a  considerable  apti- 
tude for  mechanical  pursuits,  and  a  talent  for  science.  These 
tastes  induced  him  to  select  the  business  of  a  gunsmith  as  the  one 
which  he  could  follow  with  most  pleasure  to  himself. ,  During  his 
apprenticeship  he  applied  himself  diligently  to  his  new  trade,  and 

A  A 


554  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

4) 

made  many  ingenious  inventions  and  useful  implements  for  per- 
fecting his  work.  Long  before  the  term  of  his  apprenticeship  had 
expired  he  was  an  excellent  workman ;  so  good,  indeed,  that  his 
master  declared  he  was  unable  to  give  him  any  farther  instruc- 
tion, and  advised  him  to  commence  business  for  himself. 

For  several  years  subsequent  to  this  period  he  pursued  a  vari- 
ety of  occupations  with  more  or  less  success,  and  finally  became 
interested  with  his  brother  and  five  others  in  the  manufacture  of 
cotton  and  wool  cards.  The  firm  was  called  Giles,  Eichards  & 
Co.,  and  supplied  nearly  all  the  cards  then  used  in  the  country. 
Amos's  knowledge  of  mechanics  and  his  extreme  ingenuity  point- 
ed him  out  as  a  fitting  superintendent  of  the  machine  department. 

Up  to  this  time  the  manufacture  of  cotton  and  wool  cards  was 
conducted  almost  entirely  by  hand,  and  was  necessarily  imperfect 
and  expensive.  Whittemore  immediately  perceived  that  here  was 
a  field  for  the  exercise  of  his  inventive  faculties.  The  immense 
value  of  a  machine  so  constructed  as  to  be  able,  by  its  own  inde- 
pendent action,  to  hold  the  sheet  of  leather,  pierce  the  holes,  draw 
the  wire  from  the  reel,  and  shape  and  stick  it  in  its  proper  place, 
was  apparent  to  every  one.  From  his  brother  he  received  every 
kind  of  encouragement,  and  at  once  proceeded  to  experiments,  in 
the  pursuit  of  which  he  was  so  indefatigable  that  his  health  was 
seriously  impaired.  He  slept  on  wool  cards,  dreamed  of  wool 
cards,  lived  and  breathed  in  wool  cards.  Such  application  could 
not  be  without  result.  After  some  failures,  which  only  served  to 
stimulate  his  invention,  he  produced  a  machine  which  was  able  to 
draw  the  wire  from  the  reel,  cut  and  shape  it,  pierce  the  holes  in 
the  leather,  and  even  place  the  staples  firmly  in  the  sheet ;  but  it 
was  necessary  to  bend  the  wire  after  it  was  placed ;  without  this, 
all  was  in  vain.  The  difficulty  was  one  which  baffled  him  in  ev- 
ery direction.  He  tried  to  surmount  it  in  a  thousand  ways,  but 
it  seemed  useless,  and  he  abandoned  himself  to  despair.  The  ma- 
chine he  had  created  lay  before  him  like  a  beautiful  corpse,  per- 
fect in  every  respect,  but  lacking  the  breath  of  life.  He  was 
plunged  into  the  greatest  despondency  and  gloom,  and  night  or 
day  could  find  but  little  rest  for  his  troubled  mind.  Exhausted 
by  this  state  of  nervous  excitement,  he  sunk  into  a  slumber  one 
evening.  A  strange  vision  visited  him.  He  awoke  with  a  per- 
fect scheme  /or  the  accomplishment  of  his  object.  It  had  come 
to  him  in  a  dream,  but  it  was  reality  in  the  morning,  and  before 


AMOS  WHITTEMORE.  555 

breakfast  he  was  able  to  announce  to  his  brother  and  friends  the 
completion  of  his  machine.  Whittemore  dwelt  with  much  satis- 
faction on  this  dream  in  after  years. 

The  machine,  when  completed,  was  a  masterpiece  of  beautiful 
mechanism.  In  1797,  a  patent  right  was  granted  to  the  inventor 
and  his  associates  for  the  term  of  fourteen  years.  To  procure  the 
i-ame  protection  in  England,  Whittemore  sailed  for  that  country 
in  the  spring  of  1799,  and  returned  the  following  year  without 
having  obtained  any  satisfaction.  Numerous  offers  were  made  to 
Whittemore  either  to  purchase  the  right  or  a  share  in  the  profits 
of  the  invention,  but  for  some  cause  Whittemore  did  not  come  to 
terras.  The  consequence  was  that  he  derived  no  benefit  from 
that  country. 

On  his  re  turn,  Whittemore  and  his  brother  entered  into  a  co- 
partnership with  a  man  of  capital,  and  commenced  the  manufac- 
ture of  the  improved  machinery  in  a  limited  way.  Before  this 
firm  had  got  properly  into  operation,  the  patent  right  was  nearly 
expired.  Considerable  apprehension  was  felt ;  but  Whittemore 
visited  Washington  with  a  full-sized  machine  as  a  model,  and  so 
charmed  the  members  with  its  perfection,  that  by  a  unanimous 
vote  the  patent  was  extended  for  a  further  term  of  fourteen  years. 
Immediately  after  this,  efforts  were  made  to  establish  a  company 
with  a  sufficient  capital  to- carry  on  the  manufacture  with  energy. 
In  1812  an  act  was  obtained  incorporating  the  "  New  York  Man- 
ufacturing Company."  The  capital  -was  $800,000,  of  which  near- 
ly a  half  was  to  be  employed  in  the  manufacture  of  cotton  and 
wool  cards,  and  building  the  necessary  machinery  and  factories. 
One  of  the  first  acts  of  the  company  was  to  purchase  the  patent 
right  and  entire  stock  and  machinery  of  Whittemore  for  the  sum 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars.  The  time  was  favor- 
able to  the  operations  of  the  company.  A  war  raged  between 
England  and  America;  commerce  was  entirely  interrupted,  and 
the  necessity  of  supplying  ourselves  with  what  was  needed  caused 
manufactories  of  cotton  and  woolen  stuffs  especially  to  spring  up 
as  if  by  magic.  There  was  such  a  demand  for  hand-cards  that 
the  company  was  soon  busily  and  profitably  employed. 

Exactly  the  reverse  of  this  was  the  case  when,  in  1815,  peace 
was  proclaimed.  An  enormous  influx  of  foreign  goods  glutted 
the  market,  and  threw  the  native  manufacturer  entirely  out  of 
the  field.  The  raw  material  was  again  in  demand,  and  scarcely 


556  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

a  pound  of  cotton  or  wool  remained  at  home.  Private  individu- 
als found  it  impossible  to  struggle  against  the  reverse ;  corpora- 
tions, much  more  unwieldy  and  thriftless,  sunk  hopelessly  beneath 
the  reaction.  In  1818,  after  waiting  three  years  for  an  improved 
state  of  things,  the  company  proposed  and  effected  a  sale  of  its 
entire  manufacturing  property  to  Messrs.  Samuel  and  Timothy 
Whittemore,  the  former  a  brother,  the  latter  a  son  of  the  in- 
ventor. The  first  named  person  almost  immediately  relinquished 
his  interest,  and  Whittemore  became  the  sole  proprietor.  He  con- 
ducted the  business  with  varied  success  until  within  a  few  years. 
The  "  New  York  Manufacturing  Company"  invested  its  funds  in 
the  banking  business,  and  continues  its  operations  to  the  present 
day  under  the  name  and  title  of  the  "  Phrenix  Bank."  The  pat- 
ent expired  in  1825,  and  the  machines  were  thereafter  made  by 
any  one  who  chose  to  apply  himself  to  the  business.  As  an  evi- 
dence of  the  perfection  of  the  machine  which  Whittemore  invent- 
ed, it  may  be  interesting  to  know  that  no  important  alteration  has 
taken  place  hi  its  construction,  but  that  it  remains  essentially  the 
same  to  the  present  day. 

Whittemore  purchased  a  comfortable  estate  in  the  town  of 
West  Cambridge,  and  resided  there  in  the  quiet  pursuit  of  astro- 
nomical science  to  the  time  of  his  death,  which  occurre^  in  1828, 
in  the  sixty-ninth  year  of  his  age,  leaving  a  widow  and  several 
children  to  lament  his  loss.  "To  his  family,"  says  his  biographer, 
"  he  was  an  example  of  one  who  lived  a  pure  and  blameless  life, 
and,  though  he  left  but  an  inconsiderable  fortune,  they  inherited 
a  far  brighter  treasure  in  an  unsullied  reputation."  Whittemore 
was  of  a  bland  and  conciliating  disposition,  even  in  temper,  and 
in  manners  strikingly  meditative,  conversing  but  little,  and  often 
seen  in  profound  mental  cogitation. 


CAPTAIN   JAMES   COOK. 

JAMES  COOK,  the  celebrated  circumnavigator,  was  the  son  of 
peasants,  and  came  into  the  world  in  the  year  1728.  His  fa- 
ther was  in  the  humblest  circumstances,  and  gained  a  scanty  liv- 
ing by  working  as  day  laborer  on  the  small  farms  of  his  native 
county,  Yorkshire,  England.  James  assisted  his  father  until  his 
thirteenth  year,  when  a  change  to  circumstances  rather  more 
prosperous  than  what  had  before  existed  enabled  him  to  attend 
school,  and  acquire  some  knowledge  of  reading,  writing,  and  arith- 
metic. A  few  years  later  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  shopkeeper  in 
a  small  fishing  town  a  few  miles  from  Whitby,  and  here  he  ac- 
quired his  first  appetite  for  the  sea.  It  is  probable  that  he  was 
not  very  useful  in  the  mercantile  way,  for,  when  there  was  an 
opportunity  of  shipping  off  his  apprentice,  his  master  willingly 
gave  up  his  indentures.  Cook  now  entered  on  his  seafaring  ca- 
reer in  the  humble  capacity  of  cabin-boy.  The  Freelove  was  the 
vessel  in  which  he  embarked,  and  she  was  engaged  principally  in 
the  coal  trade.  In  time  Cook  became  a  foremast  man,  and  was 


558  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

considered  so  skillful  and  well-informed  that  the  owners  promoted 
him  to  the  rank  of  mate.  He  was  not  popular  with  his  fellow-sea- 
men, who  considered  him  taciturn  and  morose,  while,  in  reality,  he 
was  merely  retiring.  Every  opportunity  he  had  he  devoted  to  the 
acquiring  of  knowledge.  Cook  remained  in  this  service  until  his 
twenty-seventh  year.  War  had  then  broken  out  between  France 
and.  England,  and  there  was  consequently  a  demand  for  seamen. 
Cook  entered  the  navy,  and  his  steady  conduct  and  seaman-like 
qualities  again  served  him.  He  was  promoted  to  the  quarter-deck 
by  a  master's  warrant  from  the  Admiralty,  dated  May  10th,  1759, 
Cook  then  being  in  his  thirty-first  year.  His  first  appointment 
was  to  the  Mercury,  in  which  vessel  he  assisted  at  the  reduction 
of  Quebec  under  General  Wolfe.  In  the  dangerous  navigation 
of  the  St.  Lawrence  Mr.  Cook's  talents  were  called  into  active 
operation.  The  buoys  in  that  river  had  all  been  removed  by  the 
French  at  the  first  appearance  of  the  English  fleet,  and  it  became 
vitally  necessary  that  a  survey  should  lie  made  of  the  channels, 
and  correct  soundings  obtained,  to  enable  the  ships  to  keep  clear 
of  the  many  dangers  which  beset  that  stream.  By  the  recom- 
mendation of  his  commander,  this  onerous  duty  was  intrusted  to 
Mr.  Cook,  who  cheerfully  undertook  it  in  a  barge  belonging  to  a 
seventy-four.  He  had  to  conduct  many  of  his  operations  by  night, 
on  account  of  the  watchfulness  of  the  enemy,  and  one  night  he  ex- 
perienced a  narrow  escape ;  his  boat  was  boarded  by  Indians  in 
the  pay  of  the  French,  and  carried  off  in  triumph,  Cook  and  his 
companions  barely  escaping  with  their  lives.  The  fleet,  thanks  to 
Cook's  skill,  reached  its  destination  in  safety. 

On  his  return  from  Quebec,  Mr.  Cook  was  appointed  master  of 
the  Northumberland,  under  Lord  Colville,  who  was  stationed  as 
commodore  at  Halifax.  Here  he  remained'  during  the  winter, 
improving  his  leisure  with  studies  which  would  better  enable  him 
to  pursue  his  profession  with  honor  and  distinction.  He  was 
determined  to  become  thoroughly  master  of  the  art  of  navigation, 
and,  with  this  object  in  view,  he  made  himself  master  of  Euclid's 
Elements  of  Plane  Geometry,  and  proceeded  thence  to  the  higher 
branches  of  mathematical  study,  including  nautical  astronomy. 
By  this  course  he  was  able  to  take  astronomical  observations,  to 
calculate  a  ship's  progress,  and  to  ascertain  the  degree  of  latitude 
and  longitude  at  any  given  spot  on  the  ocean.  Mixing  as  he  did 
with  men  of  education  and  refinement,  he  acquired  also  an  urbane 


CAPTAIN  JAMES  COOK.  559 

and  courteous  bearing,  which  conciliated  all  classes  of  people,  and 
which  certainly  contributed  largely  to  his  future  success  in  life. 

In  .1762  Mr.  Cook  returned  to  England,  and  married  an  esti- 
mable lady  of  the  name  of  Batts.  In  the  following  year  he  was 
appointed  to  survey  the  whole  coast  of  Newfoundland,  which  task 
he  performed  with  his  usual  promptitude  and  skill.  After  this  he 
made  another  trip  under  his  old  commander,  Sir  Hugh  Palliser, 
a  gentleman  who  was  a  true  friend.  Cook  had  now  published 
several  charts,  and  had  made  numerous  observations.  These 
matters  brought  him  into  correspondence  with  members  of  the 
Royal  Society,  and  some  of  his  papers  were  published  in  their 
Transactions.  In  this  way  he  became  known  and  recognized  in 
the  scientific  world,  and  on  his  thirty-fourth  "birth-day  could  claim 
the  friendship  of  many  of  the  most  eminent  men  in  England. 

At  this  time  the  project  of  a  voyage  of  discovery  for  various 
scientific  purposes  was  largely  discussed.  The  principal  object 
of  the  expedition  was  to  observe  a  transit  of  the  planet  Venus 
over  the  face  of  the  sun,  which  could  only  be  done  somewhere  in 
the  Pacific  or  Southern  Ocean.  The  transit,  according  to  the 
best  calculations,  was  to  happen  in  June,  1769.  The  Royal  So- 
ciety, as  th'e  representative  of  the  scientific  world,  applied  to  the 
king  to  fit  out  an  expedition  suitable  to  take  the  observations, 
and  the  king  complied  with  the  request.  The  command  was  of- 
fered to  Cook,  and  was  so  much  to  his  mind  that  in  a  very  short 
time  he  was  ready  for  sea.  He  received  the  commission  of  a  lieu- 
tenant from  the  king,  and  the  Endeavor,  of  370  tons,  was  placed 
at  his  disposal.  She  was  provisioned  for  eighteen  months,  armed 
with  twelve  carriage-guns  and  twelve  swivels,  and  manned  with 
a  complement  of  eighty-four  seamen.  A  number  of  scientific  gen- 
tlemen, with  every  requisite  apparatus,  accompanied  the  expedi- 
tion, many  of  them  doing  so  at  their  own  cost.  On  the  26th  of 
August,  1768,  the  expedition  set  sail  from  Plymouth  Sound.  On 
the  llth  of  April,  after  many  delays,  they  came  in  sight  of  Otaheite, 
and  two  days  after  anchored  in  Port  Royal  (Matavai),  where  the, 
scientific  gentlemen  landed,  and  made  preparations  for  taking  their 
observations.  The  natives  were  friendly,  and  Cook  endeavored  to 
keep  them  so  by  drawing  up  a  code  of  regulations  by  which  com- 
munication and  traffic  were  to  be  carried  on  in  an  equitable  way. 
But  the  savages  were  not  accustomed  to  treaties  of  this  kind,  and 
in  a  few  days  violated  it.  A  big  fellow  fell  in  love  with  the  bright 


560  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

musket  which  a  sentinel  carried,  and  dexterously  snatched  it  from 
his  hands.  The  marines  were  ordered  to  fire,  and  the  thief  was 
shot  dead.  This  was  the  first  lesson  that  Cook  taught  the  Otaheit- 
ans ;  the  second  related  to  his  own  crew.  A  butcher  became  too 
familiar  with  the  wife  of  a  native  chief,  and  attempted  to  take  liber- 
ties with  her.  Cook  ordered  the  fellow  to  be  flogged  publicly.  At 
the  first  stroke  of  the  lash  the  natives  prayed  that  the  man  might 
be  forgiven  ;  but  Cook  was  inexorable.  He  did  not  wish  them  to 
imagine  that  he  threatened  a  thing  without  intending  to  fulfill  it. 
Shortly  after  this  the  scientific  gentlemen  were  thrown  into  a 
state  of  the  greatest  alarm  and  consternation.  The  quadrant, 
an  instrument  on  which  every  thing  depended,  was  nowhere  to  be 
found.  Diligent  search  and  the  offer  of  a  reward  were  without  ef- 
fect. It  became  evident  that  it  had  been  pilfered  by  a  native,  and 
this  proved  to  be  the  case.  Fortunately,  however,  it  was  recovered 
by  Sir  Joseph  Banks  before  it  had  suffered  any  damage.  The  time 
for  observing  the  transit  now  approached,  and  on  the  morning  of 
the  3d  of  June  satisfactory  observations  were  made.  Their  en- 
terprise was  consequently  crowned  with  success.  The  only  an- 
noyance now  experienced  was  from  the  thievish  habits  of  the  na- 
tives. Cook  was  unwilling  to  fire  upon  them,  but  every  day  it 
became  more  apparent  that  something  had  to  be  done.  On  one 
occasion  he  seized  all  their  fishing  canoes,  partly  laden  ;  and 
though,  from  motives  of  humanity,  he  gave  up  the  fish,  yet  he  de- 
tained the  vessels,  under  a  hope  that  several  articles  which  had 
been  pilfered  would  be  restored;  but  in  this  he  was  mistaken. 
Mr.  Cook  and  Mr.  Banks  (afterward  Sir  Joseph)  explored  the  isl- 
and, the  latter  gentleman  planting  seeds  of  watermelons,  oranges, 
lemons,  limes,  and  other  plants  and  trees,  which  he  had  collected 
for  the  purpose^  some  of  which  now  grow  in  rich  perfection.  On 
the  13th  of  July  the  ship  weighed  anchor,  having  on  board  a  prin- 
cipal native  of  the  name  of  Tupia,  and  a  boy  of  thirteen,  both  of 
whom  asked  permission  to  accompany  the  ship  to  England.  Aft- 
er quitting  Otaheite,  the  Endeavor  visited  a  group  of  islands, 
which,  in  consequence  of  their  contiguity,  Cook  named  the  Soci- 
ety Islands.  The  expedition  was  generally  well  received  by  the 
natives,  except  at  Ulictea,  where  the  natives  displayed  so  much 
hostility  that  Cook  deemed  it  best  not  to  force  a  landing,  and  pro- 
ceeded on  his  way  to  the  southward,  in  search  of  a  supposed  con- 
tinent. On  the  6th  of  October  land  was  discovered,  which  proved 


CAPTAIN  JAMES  COOK.  561 

to  be  a  part  of  New  Zealand.  Here  again  the  natives  were  hos- 
tile, and  made  the  most  warlike  demonstrations.  Tupia  acted  as 
the  interpreter,  and  entreated  them  to  put  confidence  in  the  En- 
glish ;  but  this  they  declined  to  do.  A  conflict  was  the  inevita- 
ble result,  in  which  some  of  the  New  Zealanders  were  killed,  and 
three  boys  taken  prisoners,  who  were  treated  with  much  kindness. 
As  the  place  afforded  nothing  that  the  voyagers  wanted,  Mr. 
Cook  named  it  Poverty  Bay,  and  when  the  ship  was  about  to  sail 
on  its  course,  released  the  three  boys,  who,  it  was  hoped,  would 
create  a  favorable  impression  in  the  minds  of  the  natives  by  the 
account  of  the  kind  treatment  they  had  received.  The  experi- 
ment appeared  to  be  successful ;  some  of  the  Indians  came  off  to 
the  ship,  but  it  was  almost  impossible  to  keep  friends  with  them 
for  more  than  an  hour  or  two  at  a  time.  Armed  parties  in  large 
canoes  assembled,  and  paddled  off  to  the  Endeavor  as  if  to  trade, 
but  in  reality  -to  plunder,  and  they  performed  the  latter  operation 
with  such  coolness  that  in  several  instances  it  was  absolutely  nec- 
essary to  fire  on  them.  On  one  occasion  they  stole  Tupia's  boy 
Tayeto,  the  lad  being  the  only  trifle  which  happened  to  be  lying 
about.  They  were,  of  course,  compelled  to  relinquish  their  prey, 
but  blood  had  to  be  shed  before  they  consented  to  do  so.  While 
standing  along  the  coast,  the  Enterprise  narrowly  escaped  being 
wrecked  on  the  rocks  that  lay  some  distance  from  the  land ;  and 
again,  on  the  5th  of  December,  while  turning  out  of  the  Bay  of  Isl- 
ands. In  the  latter  instance  the  ship  drifted  so  close  to  the  shore 
that,  notwithstanding  the  incessant  roar  of  the  breakers,  they  could 
hear  the  voices  of  the  natives  on  the  beach.  The  pinnace  was  got 
out  to  tow  the  vessel's  head  round,  but  none  expected  to  escape 
destruction.  Fortunately,  a  breeze  sprung  up  at  the  right  mo- 
ment, and  the  ship  got  clear.  About  an  hour  afterward,  just  as 
the  man  heaving  the  lead  sung  out  "  seventeen  fathoms,"  she 
struck  on  a  hidden  rock  ;  there  was  scarcely  time  for  confusion  be- 
fore she  was  washed  off  by  the  swell  and  carried  into  deep  water. 
On  the  14th  of  January,  1770,  the  expedition  anchored  in 
Queen  Charlotte's  Sound  to  refit  the  ship  and  make  necessary 
repairs.  They  found  a  good  supply  of  fresh  water,  and  took 
plenty  of  fish,  but  of  inhabitants  they  saw  but  few.  In  one  of 
their  rambles  they  discovered  an  Indian  family,  and  had  ocular 
demonstration  of  cannibalism.  The  natives  were  friendly  and 
hospitable.  After  a  month's  stay  in  these  pleasant  quarters,  they 

AA2 


562  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

proceeded  to  explore  three  or  four  islands  in  the  locality,  giving 
names  to  capes,  headlands,  rocks,  etc.  On  the  19th  of  April  they 
came  in  sight  of  New  Holland  (New  South  Wales,  as  it  is  now  call- 
ed), and  anchored  in  Botany  Bay  on  the  28th,  where  they  landed. 
Two  or  three  Indians  on  the  shore  objected  to  the  latter  ceremony, 
and  made  a  gallant  opposition  with  their  lances ;  but  a  few  shots  so 
astonished  their  uncultivated  ears  that  they  did  not  recover  a  tol- 
erable presence  of  mind  until  the  expedition  was  out  of  sight. 
The  voyagers  left  beads  and  trinkets  in  the  huts  of  the  natives, 
but  without  any  conciliatory  result.  They  persisted  in  being  pro- 
foundly unconscious  of  the  presence  of  strangers.  In  the  Bay  they 
caught  a  fish  called  a  string-ray,  which,  after  the  entrails  were 
taken  out,  weighed  336  pounds.  Cook  continued  his  explorations 
in  New  South  Wales  with  great  energy,  but  on  the  10th  of  June 
the  voyage  was  nearly  brought  to  an  end  by  the  Enterprise  striking 
on  a  coral  reef  and  remaining  there  for  forty-eight  hours.  She 
was  at  length  got  off,  after  having  thrown  every  thing  overboard 
which  could  in  the  slightest  degree  lighten  her  weight.  The  dan- 
ger, however,  was  not  removed,  for  she  had  a  large  hole  in  her 
bottom,  and  made  water  rapidly.  When  they  got  into  harbor  the 
bottom  was  overhauled,  and  a  large  piece  of  rock  was  discovered 
sticking  firmly  in  the  hole.  If  it  had  fallen  out  the  vessel  would 
undoubtedly  have  gone  to  the  bottom.  As  it  was,  many  valuable 
specimens  collected  by  the  scientific  gentlemen,  and  placed  in  the 
hold  for  security,  were  utterly  destroyed. 

After  touching  at  a  number  of  other  islands,  at  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope,  and  at  St.  Helena,  the  Enterprise  returned  home  in 
safety  on  the  10th  of  June.  The  success  of  the  expedition  was 
so  complete  and  satisfactory  that  Mr.  Cook  was  promoted  to  the 
rank  of  commander,  and  became  a  great  lion  in  the  English  me- 
tropolis, where,  being  an  agreeable  man,  he  made  the  most  of  his 
adventures. 

Cook's  second  voyage  round  the  world  was  undertaken  for  the 
purpose  of  exploring  Australia,  which  was  th6n  supposed  to  be  a 
southern  continent  of  great  magnitude.  The  king  was  again  the 
patron,  and  two  stout  ships  were  purchased — the  Resolution,  of 
462  tons,  commanded  by  Captain  Cook,  with  a  complement  of  1 1 2 
persons,  and  the  Adventure,  of  336  tons,  commanded  by  Tobias 
Furneaux,  with  a  crew,  including  officers,  of  81  souls.  The  ves- 
sels were  supplied  with  every  thuag  that  experience,  philanthropy, 


CAPTAIN  JAMES  COOK.  563 

or  science  could  suggest,  and  a  full  staff  of  scientific  men  were  also 
engaged.  Cook's  instructions  were  "  to  circumnavigate  the  whole 
globe  in  high  southern  latitudes,  making  traverses,  from  time  to 
time,  into  every  part  of  the  Pacific  Ocean  that  had  not  undergone 
previous  investigation,  and  to  use  his  best  endeavors  to  resolve 
the  much-agitated  question  of  a  southern  continent."  The  ves- 
sels quitted  Plymouth  on  the  13th  of  July,  1772,  and  after  touch- 
ing at  Madeira  for  wine,  and  at  the  Cape  de  Verds  for  water, 
crossed  the  line  with  a  brisk  southwest  wind,  and  anchored  in 
Table  Bay,  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  on  the  30th  of  October.  From 
this  point  they  shaped  their  course  for  Cape  Circumcision,  but, 
owing  to  the  severity  of  the  weather,  and  the  great  quantities  of 
floe  ice  and  icebergs  which  they  encountered,  they  failed  to  find 
that  point,  and  did  not  see  land  for  117  days,  having  in  that  time 
traversed  36GO  leagues,  and  reached  New  Zealand.  The  vessels 
unfortunately  parted  company,  and  did  not  meet  again  until  the 
Resolution  reached  Queen  Charlotte's  Sound.  Subsequently  they 
parted  again,  and  did  not  meet  until  their  return  to  England. 
Singular  enough,  they  arrived  within  a  day  of  each  other. 

Cook  did  his  best  to  cultivate  the  good  opinion  of  the  New 
Zealanders,  and  on  parting  left  them  a  male  and  female  goat,  and 
a  boar  and  two  sows.  From  Queen  Charlotte's  Sound  they  di- 
rected their  course  to  Otaheite,  and  on  the  17th  of  August  an- 
chored in  Oaiti-piha  Bay.  The  natives  were  perfectly  friendly, 
and  crowded  on  board  with  fruits,  vegetables,  etc.,  to  trade  for 
nails  and  beads.  Shirts  were  bestowed  on  the  most  important 
chiefs,  Avhich  enormously  exaggerated  their  dignity.  Unfortu- 
nately, however,  their  thieving  propensities  had  not  subsided,  and 
Cook  had  to  turn  them  out  of  the  ship  and  frighten  them  with 
musketry  in  order  to  put  them  on  their  guard.  At  Matavai  Bay 
they  found  themselves  popular.  The  natives  had  remembered 
their  former  voyage,  and  crowded  the  decks  with  eagerness  and 
curiosity.  Cook  went  to  see  Otoo,  the  reigning  chief  or  prince, 
and  describes  him  as  a  fine,  well-made  man,  six  feet  high,  and 
about  thirty  years  of  age.  He  was  not  remarkable  for  bravery, 
for,  being  invited  to  visit  the  ship,  he  declined  on  the  ground 
"  that  he  was  frightened  of  the  guns."  From  Matavai  Bay  the 
ship  proceeded  to  Owharre.  The  chief  remembered  Cook  with 
much  kindliness,  and  brought  the  presents  he  had  received  on  the 
former  voyage  to  show  that  hq»  treasured  them.  A  number  of 


564  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

compliments  passed  between  the  parties,  but  they  did  not  avert  an 
outrage.  Without  any  provocation,  a  man  assailed  Captain  Cook 
with  a  club  at  the-  landing-place ;  and  Mr.  Sparrman,  who  had 
gone  into  the  woods  to  botanize,  was  set  upon,  beaten,  and  strip- 
ped. The  Indians  generally  expressed  their  indignation,  and  the 
king  was  so  much  affected  that  he  wept  aloud,  and  insisted  on 
placing  himself  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  British  until  the  cul- 
prits were  found.  He  was  taken  on  board  the  Resolution  as  a 
hostage,  and  dined  with  Captain  Cook,  but  nothing  was  heard  of 
Mr.  Span-man's  personal  effects,  with  the  exception  of  his  hang- 
er, which  was  restored.  When  the  king  was  landed  by  Captain 
Cook  in  great  state,  the  joy  of  the  people  knew  no  bounds.  They 
made  a  serviceable  demonstration  by  loading  two  boats  with  hogs 
and  fruits,  and  sending  them  to  their  English  friend. 

The  voyagers  quitted  this  part  of  the  world  on  the  17th,  and 
sailed  to  the  westward.  By  the  1st  of  October  they  had  reached 
Middleburg,  and  were  welcomed  in  the  most  cordial  manner  by 
the  natives.  Barter  commenced,  but  the  people  on  shore  seemed 
more  anxious  to  give  than  to  receive,  and  threw  into  the  boats 
whole  bales  of  cloth  without  asking  or  waiting  for  any  thing  in 
return.  After  leaving  some  garden-seeds  and  other  useful  things, 
the  ship  proceeded  to  Amsterdam,  where  they  met  with  a  similar 
reception.  The  island  was  found  to  be  in  an  admirable  state  of 
cultivation,  and  the  fertility  unexceptionable.  Captain  Cook  paid 
a  visit  to  the  head  chief,  who  was  seated,  and  seemed  to  be  in  an 
idiotic  state  of  self-complacent  dignity.  He  did  not  pay  the 
slightest  attention  to  the  captain  or  any  one  in  the  party.  Per- 
haps he  was  selected  by  the  people  to  be  their  king  on  account  of 
these  very  qualities,  for,  as  a  rule,  the  natives  were  found  to  be 
intelligent  and  lively — the  women  especially  so.  Most  of  them 
had  lost  one  or  both  of  their  little  fingers,  but  no  reason  could  be 
gathered  for  the  cause  of  this  amputation. 

The  voyage  was  renewed  on  the  7th  of  October,  and  after  call- 
ing at  several  places,  the  ship  hauled  up  in  November  at  Queen 
Charlotte's  Sound  for  repairs.  It  was  here  discovered  that  much 
of  the  bread  had  been  destroyed  by  the  salt  water  that  had  entered 
the  hold  during  their  accident.  On  the  26th  Cook  took  leave  of 
New  Zealand,  with  his  ship's  company  in  good  health  and  spirits. 
They  were  now  bound  on  finding  the  southern  continent  or  isl- 
ands in  high  latitudes,  and  knegr  that  they  had  to  encounter 


CAPTAIN  JAMES  COOK.  565 

many  hardships  and  dangers  before  they  could  again  see  land. 
They  were  not  long  before  they  fell  in  with  large  fields  of  ice, 
and  in  latitude  67°  5/  they  were  nearly  blocked  up,  and  on  the 
22d  of  December  attained  the  highest  latitude  they  could  venture 
(lat.  67°  31X,  long.  142°  54/  west),  but  could  discover  no  indica- 
tions of  the  proximity  of  land.  After  traversing  the  ocean  in  a 
southerly  direction  as  far  as  it  was  prudent  to  go,  the  scientific 
men  gave  it  as  their  opinion  that  ice  surrounded  the  pole,  without 
any  intervening  land,  and  advised  the  captain  therefore  to  turn 
the  vessel  northward,  and  look  for  the  island  of  Juan  Fernandez. 
About  this  time  Captain  Cook  was  seized  with  a  violent  and  dan- 
gerous disease,  which  required  all  the  skill  of  the  doctors  to  con- 
quer. On  partially  recovering,  it  became  absolutely  necessary 
that  he  should  receive  some  fresh  nourishment,  his  stomach  being 
too  weak  to  bear  the  ordinary  salted  provisions.  Gastronomic- 
ally  considered,  the  only  fresh  meat  on  board  was  the  unhappy 
little  dog  of  Mr.  Forster.  Ponto  had  to  suffer.  An  agreeable 
broth  was  made  from  his  remains,  and  on  this  and  a  few  tender 
bits  the  captain  gained  strength.  On  the  llth  of  March  they 
came  in  sight  of  Easter  Island,  where  they  remained  but  a  short 
time,  owing  to  the  insecurity  of  the  harbor  and  the  scarcity  of 
food  and  fuel.  Early  in  April  they  reached  the  Marquesas,  where 
they,  found  a  plentiful  supply  of  fresh  meats,  yams,  fruits,  and 
plantains.  These  provisions  were  never  more  welcome,  for  the 
ship's  company  had  now  been  on  salt  victuals  for  fourteen  weeks. 
Owing  to  the  great  care  and  cleanliness  of  the  captain,  however, 
there  had  been  no  sickness  on  board.  From  the  Marquesas  they 
proceeded  to  their  old  anchorage  ground  at  Matavai  Bay,  where 
they  found  the  king  and  the  chiefs  more  warmly  disposed  than 
ever.  The  Otaheitans  got  up  a  grand  naval  review  for  the  edifi- 
cation of  their  visitors.  No  fewer  than  160  of  the  largest  and 
handsomest  double  canoes  were  assembled,  fully  manned  with 
chiefs  and  warriors  in  their  most  terrific  costumes,  who  appeared 
upon  the  fighting  stages  with  their  clubs  and  other  instruments 
of  warfare  ready  for  action.  Besides  these  large  vessels,  there 
were  170  smaller  double  canoes,  each  having  a  mast  and  sail,  and 
a  sort  of  hut  or  cabin  on  the  deck.  Captain  Cook  calculated 
that  the  number  of  men  embarked  on  them  could  not  be  fewer 
than  7760,  m«ft  of  them  armed  with  clubs,  pikes,  barbed  spikes, 
bows  and  arrows,  and  slings  for  throwing  large  stones.  The 


566  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

demonstration  was  quite  imposing,  and  astonished  the  English, 
who  did  not  give  the  Otaheitans  credit  for  such  extensive  re- 
sources. While  staying  in  this  hospitable  bay  a  romantic  inci- 
dent occurred.  One  of  the  seamen  fell  desperately  in  love  with 
an  Indian  girl,  and  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  marry  her. 
With  this  honorable  object  in  view,  he  contrived  to  make  his 
escape  from  the  ship,  and  gained  the  woods,  where  it  was  his  in- 
tention to  stay  until  the  expedition  had  sailed.  The  natives  were 
not  unfriendly  to  the  project,  but  Captain  Cook  interfered  in  time 
to  prevent  its  fulfillment. 

Leaving  these  friendly  islands,  the  voyagers  cruised  about,  dis- 
covered a  number  of  smaller  ones,  named  them,  and  finally 
reached  Queen  Charlotte's  Sound,  New  Zealand,  where,  after  re- 
fitting, they  departed  for  the  western  entrance  of  the  Straits  of 
Magellan,  in  order  to  coast  along  the  south  side  of  Terra  del 
Fuego,  round  Cape  Horn  to  the  Straits  of  Le  Maire.  On  the 
17th  of  December  they  reached  the  first-mentioned  desolate  re- 
gion, and -after  coasting  as  far  as  60°  south,  the  course  was  al- 
tered to  look  for  Bouvet's  Land ;  but,  though  they  reached  the 
spot  where  it  was  laid  down  on  the  charts,  and  sailed  over  and 
over  it,  yet  no  such  place  could  be  discovered,  and  after  two  day's 
search  more  to  the  southward,  Cook  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
Bouvet  had  mistaken  ice  for  land.  He  now  steered  for  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope,  and  home.  After  an  absence  of  three  years  and 
eighteen  days,  the  expedition  reached  Portsmouth  in  safety,  hav- 
ing in  that  time  sailed  20,000  leagues,  in  all  sorts  of  climates  and 
all  sorts  of  weather,  i  So  admirable  were.  Cook's  arrangements 
for  preserving  the  health  of  his  people,  and  so  strict  was  he  in 
enforcing  them,  that  only  one  man  was  lost  by  sickness  during 
the  entire  voyage. 

The  king  once  more  expressed  his  satisfaction  by  making  Cook 
a  post-captain,  and  three  days  later  a  captaincy  in  Greenwich 
Hospital  was  conferred  upon  him,  to  afford  an  honorable  and 
competent  retirement  from  active  service.  On  the  29th  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1776,  he  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Royal  Society,  and 
soon  after  was  honored  with  the  gold  medal,  accompanied  with  a 
eulogium  from  the  lips  of  Sir  John  Pringle,  who  performed  the 
ceremony  of  presentation.  It  was  on  the  conclusion  of  this  voy- 
age that  Cook  made  his  first  appearance  in  the  chafltoter  of  author. 
The  account  of  the  voyage  was  written  by  Cook  himself,  and  man- 
ifests decided  ability. 


CAPTAIN  JAMES  COOK.  567 

Cook's  third  and  last  voyage  was  undertaken  for  the  purpose 
of  discovering  a  supposed  northwest  passage  from  the  Atlantic  to 
the  Pacific  Oceans.  Numerous  expeditions  had  been  sent  out  for 
this  purpose  at  various  times,  but  they  had  all  failed.  It  was 
resolved  by  the  Admiralty  to  make  one  -other  trial,  under  the 
auspices  of  the  successful  circumnavigator.  Accordingly,  on  the 
10th  of  February,  1776,  he  was  appointed  to  the  command  in  his 
old  and  trusty  ship,  the  Resolution,  and  Captain  Clerke,  in  the 
Discovery,  was  ordered  to  accompany  him.  Cook's  instructions 
were  to  proceed  direct  to  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and  thence  to  try 
the  passage  by  way  of  Behring's  Straits ;  and  as  it  was  necessary 
that  the  islands  in  the  Southern  Ocean  should  be  revisited,  cattle 
and  sheep,  with  other  animals,  and  all  kinfe  of  seeds,  were  shipped 
for  the  advantage  of  the  inhabitants. 

The  Resolution  sailed  on  the  12th  of  July,  1776  (the  Discovery 
was  to  follow),  having  on  board  a  native  of  the  Sandwich  Islands 
to  act  as  interpreter.  Nothing  of  importance  occurred  on  the 
outward  voyage,  and  on  the  12th  of  February,  1777,  Cook  arrived 
at  Queen  Charlotte's  Sound,  New  Zealand,  where  he  anchored. 
He  fou^d  the  natives  suspiciously  sly,  and  no  amount  of  persuasion 
could  induce  fliem  to  venture  on  board.  They  had  reason  for  their 
uneasiness.  On  the  last  voyage,  the  Adventure  had  visited  this 
place,  and  ten  of  her  crew  had  been  killed  in  an  unpremeditated 
skirmish.  They  apprehended  chastisement,  and  thought  it. best 
to  be  on  the  alert.  It  was  not  convenient  for  Cook  to  add  to  any 
ill  feeling  that  might  exist,  so  he  said  nothing  about  the  massacre, 
but  tried  to  conciliate.  From  the  Sound  the  ship  proceeded  to 
some  of  the  South  Sea  Islands,  where  they  obtained  a  plentiful 
supply  of  provisions,  but  were  greatly  annoyed  by  the  thievish 
propensities  of  the  natives.  To  check  this,  Cook  hit  upon  a  new 
device.  He  seized  the  culprit  and  shaved  his  head,  thus  making 
him  an  object  of  ridicule  to  his  countrymen,  and  enabling  the 
English  to  keep  their  eyes  on  him.  At  Tongataboo  generous 
hospitality  was  shown  to  them,  and  the  king  invited  Cook  to  re- 
side with  him  in  his  house.  Here  he  made  a  distribution  of  ani- 
mals among  the  chiefs,  explaining  their  uses,  and  how  to  preserve 
them.  A  horse  and  mare,  a  bull  and  cow,  several  sheep  and  tur- 
keys were  thus  given  away.  But,  in  spite  of  this  kindly  reciproc- 
ity, thieving  still  went  on.  Cook  became  incensed,  and  determ- 
ined that  he  would  put  a  stop  to  it  at  any  risk.  Two  kids  and 


568  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

two  turkey-cocks  were  abstracted  from  the  stores.  The  captain 
seized  three  canoes,  put  a  guard  over  the  chiefs,  and  insisted  that 
not  only  the  kids  and  turkeys  should  be  restored,  but  also  every 
thing  that  had  been  taken  away  since  their  arrival.  Much  of 
the  plunder  was  returned.  But  the  chiefs,  who  were  friendly, 
probably  felt  themselves  insulted. 

After  remaining  nearly  three  months  in  these  hospitable  but 
unprincipled  regions,  Cook  took  his  departure  for  Otaheite,  and 
thence  for  Matavai  Bay,  where  he  presented  King  Otoo  with  the 
remainder  of  his  live-stock,  among  which  were  a  horse  and  mare. 
To  show  the  natives  the  use  of  the  latter  animals,  Captains  Cook 
and  Clerke  rode  about  the  island  on  horseback,  much  to  the  aston- 
ishment of  the  simple^eople.  More  civilized  people  have  some- 
times been  astonished  when  they  saw,  for  the  first  time,  Mr.  Jack 
Tar  astride  a  horse.  The  wonder  of  the  natives  never  abated. 
At  Huaheine  a  thief  occasioned  the  voyagers  much  trouble.  He 
was  a  determined  rascal,  and  shaving  his  head  and  beard,  and 
cutting  off  his  ears,  had  no  moral  effect  on  him.  He  persisted  in 
his  evil  ways,  and  defied  public  opinion.  At  Ulictea  several  de- 
sertions took  place,  the  deserters  being  sheltered  by  the  (pdians. 
Both  Captain  Clerke  and  Captain  Cook  went  in  pursuit  of  the 
fugitives,  but  without  success.  The  latter  therefore  ordered  the 
chief's  son,  daughter,  and  son-in-law  to  be  seized,  and  held  as 
hostages  until  the  deserters  were  given  up.  The  remedy  was  ef- 
fectual, and  in  a  few  days  an  exchange  was  effected.  This  severe 
policy  of  Cook  was  intended  to  save  the  spilling  of  innocent  blood  ; 
but  it  produced  much  indignation  among  the  savages,  who  felt 
that  it  was  an  outrage  to  seize  the  highest  persons  in  their  land 
for  every  trivial  offense.  Even  at  this  early  day  schemes  were 
afoot  to  assassinate  Cook  and  Clerke. 

On  the  2d  of  January  the  ships  resumed  their  voyage  north- 
ward. They  passed  several  islands,  the  inhabitants  of  which, 
though  at  an  immense  distance  from  Otaheite,  spoke  the  same 
language.  Those  who  came  on  board  displayed  the  utmost  aston- 
ishment at  every  thing  they  saw,  and  it  was  evident  that  they  had 
never  seen  a  snip  before.  They  resembled  the  South  Sea  Island- 
ers in  another  unpleasant  respect — they  were  passionately  addict- 
ed»  to  stealing.  To  a  group  of  these  islands  Captain  Cook  gave 
the  name  of  the  Sandwich  Islands.  New  Albion  was  made  on 
the  7th  of  March,  the  ships  then  being  in  latitude  44°  33'  north, 


CAPTAIN  JAMES  COOK.  509 

and,  after  sailing  along  it  till  the  29th,  they  came  to  anchor  in  a 
small  cove  lying  in  latitude  49°  29X  north.  A  brisk  trade  com- 
menced with  the  natives,  who  appeared  to  be  well  acquainted 
with  the  value  of  iron,  and  were  eager  to  get  it  in  exchange  for 
skins,  etc.,  rough  and  manufactured  into  garments.  But  the  most 
extraordinary  articles  which  they  offered  in  trade  were  human 
skulls,  and  hands  not  quite  stripped  of  the  flesh,  and  which  ^iad 
the  appearance  of  having  been  recently  on  the  fire.  Thieving 
was  practiced  in  a  dexterous  and  educated  manner,  but  the  na- 
tives were  strict  in  being  paid  for  every  thing  they  supplied  to  the 
ships,  with  which  rule  Cook  was  happy  to  comply.  This  inlet  was 
named  King  George's  Sound,  but  it  was  afterward  ascertained 
that  the  natives  called  it  Nootka  Sound,  by  which  name  it  is  more 
commonly  known.  From  this  point  they  exercised  the  greatest 
watchfulness,  hoping  to  find  an  outlet  into  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  but, 
as  every  one  knows,  without  success.  Cook  was  able,  however, 
to  ascertain  the  relative  positions  of  the  two  continents,  Asia  and 
America,  whose  extremities  he  observed.  He  explored  the  coasts 
in  Behring's  Straits,  where  they  found  some  Russian  traders. 
The  ships  then  quitted  the  harbor  of  Samganoodah,  and  sailed  for 
the  Sandwich  Islands,  Captain  Cook  intending  to  await  the  sea- 
son there,  and  then  return  to  Kamtschatka.  In  latitude  20°  55/ 
they  discovered  the  island  of  Mowee,  and  a  few  days  later  fell  in 
with  another,  which  the  natives  called  Owhyhee,  the  extent  of 
which  was  so  great  that  the  voyagers  were  nearly  seven  weeks 
sailing  round  it  and  examining  the  coast.  The  inhabitants  were 
extremely  pleasant,  and  appeared  to  be  entirely  free  from  suspi- 
cion. Their  canoes  flocked  around  the  ships  in  hundreds,  and 
came  well  laden  too,  but  the  gentlemen  were  light  fingered,  and 
had  but  little  fear  of  gunpowder.  Captain  Cook  had  an  inter- 
view with  Terreeoboo,  king  of  the  islands,  in  which  great  formal- 
ity was  observed  on  both  sides,  followed  by  an  exchange  of  pres- 
ents and  an  exchange  of  names.  The  natives  were  extremely  def- 
erential to  Cook,  displaying  almost  an  amount  of  adoration.  A 
society  of  priests  (native)  furnished  the  ships  with  a  plentiful  sup- 
ply of  hogs  and  vegetables,  without  requiring  any  return.  On 
the  day  previous  to  their  departure  the  king  sent  them  an  im- 
mense quantity  of  cloth,  many  boat-loads  of  vegetables,  and  a 
whole  herd  of  hogs.  The  ships  then  sailed,  but  on  the  following 
day  encountered  such  a  severe  storm  that  they  had  to  put  back 


570  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

in  order  to  repair  damages.  They  anchored  at  the  old  spot,  and 
for  a  time  things  went  on  pleasantly ;  but  a  theft  took  place,  and 
the  seamen,  becoming  enraged  at  losing  every  trifling  article  they 
possessed,  had  an  affray  with  the  natives.  It  was  not  a  trifling 
article  in  this  instance,  however,  being,  in  fact,  no  smaller  than  the 
cutter  of  the  ship  Discovery.  The  boats  of  both  vessels  were*  im- 
mediately sent  in  search  of  her,  and  Captain  Cook  went  on  shore 
to  arrange  matters  in  a  determined  spirit.  The  robbery  was  of 
the  most  audacious  kind,  and  certainly  merited  punishment,  but 
it  is  questionable  if  Cook's  policy  (considering  the  kindness  he 
had  so  lately  experienced)  was  the  best  that  conld  have  been  de- 
vised. 

We  have,  in  our  eketch  of  the  life  of  Ledyard,  given  the  sub- 
stance of  what  follows.  Ledyard,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  a 
member  of  the  expedition,  and  an  acute  observer  of  all  that  took 
place.  There  are,  however,  some  slight  variations  in  the  two  ac- 
counts, and  we  continue  our  narrative  so  that  they  may  be  com- 
pared by  the  curious. 

Cook  left  the  Resolution  about  seven  o'clock,  attended  by  the 
lieutenant  of  marines,  a  sergeant,  a  corporal,  and  seven  private 
men.  The  pinnace's  crew  were  likewise  armed,  and  under  the 
command  of  Mr.  Koberts ;  the  launch  was  also  ordered  to  assist 
his  own  boat.  On  landing  there  was  not  the  slightest  symptom 
of  hostility;  crowds  gathered  around  the  Englishmen,  and  were 
kept  in  order  by  the  chiefs,  who  seemed  desirous  that  every  thing 
should  proceed  in  an  orderly  and  pleasant  manner.  Captain  Cook 
proceeded  to  the  king's  house,  and  requested  that  he  would  go  on 
board  the  Resolution,  intending,  of  course,  to  keep  him  as  a  hostage. 
The  king,  individually,  oflfered  but  few  objections,  but  his  people 
evidently  understood  the  manoeuvre,  and  quietly  commenced  arni- 
ing  themselves  with  spears,  clubs,  and  daggers,  and  protecting 
themselves  with  the  thick  mats  which  they  usually  donned  in 
time  of  war  like  armor.  While  affairs  were  in  this  state,  a  canoe 
arrived  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  bay,  and  announced  that  one 
of  the  native  chiefs  had  been  killed  by  a  shot  from  tho  Discovery's 
boat.  Indignant  excitement  now  agitated  the  crowd  ;  the  wom- 
en retired,  and  the  men  openly  uttered  threats.  Cook,  perceiv- 
ing the  threatening  aspect  that  things  had  assumed,  ordered  Lieu- 
tenant Middleton  to  march  his  marines  down  to  the  boats,  to 
which  the  islanders  offered  no  objection.  He  then  escorted  the 


CAPTAIN  JAMES  COOK.  571 

king,  attended  by  his  wife,  two  sons,  and  several  chiefs.  One  of 
the  sons  had  already  entered  the  pinnace,  expecting  his  father  to 
follow,  when  the  king's  wife  entreated  him  not  to  leave  the  shore, 
or  he  would  be  put  to  death.  Matters  were  now  hurrying  to  a 
crisis.  A  chief,  with  a  dagger  concealed  under  his  cloak,  was 
observed  watching  Cook,  and  the  lieutenant  of  marines  wanted 
to  fire  at  him,  but  this  the  captain  would  not  permit.  The  chief 
gained  new  courage  by  this  hesitation,  and  closed  on  them,  and 
the  officer  struck  him  with  his  firelock.  Another  native  inter- 
fered, and  grasped  the  sergeant's  musket,  and  was  compelled  to 
let  it  go  by  a  blow  from,  the  lieutenant.  Cook,  seeing  that  it  was 
useless  to  attempt  to  force  the  king  off,  was  about  to  give  orders 
to  re-embark,  when  a  man  flung  a  stone  at  him,  which  he  returned 
by  discharging  small  shot  from  the  barrels  of  his  piece.  The  man, 
being  scarcely  hurt,  brandished  his  spear  as  if  about  to  hurl  it  at 
the  captain,  who  at  once  knocked  him  down,  but  refrained  from 
using  ball.  He  then  addressed  the  crowd,  and  endeavored  to  re- 
store peace,  but  while  so  engaged  a  man  was  observed  behind  a 
double  canoe  in  the  act  of  darting  a  spear  at  the  captain.  Seeing 
that  his  life  was  really  in  danger,  Cook  fired,  but  killed  the  wrong 
man.  The  sergeant  of  marines,  however,  instantly  brought  down 
the  offender  with  his  musket.  For  a  moment  the  islanders  seemed 
to  lose  some  of  their  impetuosity,  but  the  crowds  that  had  gather- 
ed behind  pressed  on  those  who  were  the  immediate  spectators  of 
what  had  occurred,  and,  what  was  even  more  fatal,  poured  in  a 
volley  of  stones.  The  marines,  without  waiting  for  orders,  re- 
turned the  compliment  with  a  general  discharge  of  musketry, 
which  was  directly  succeeded  by  a  brisk  fire  from  the  boats. 
Cook  was  surprised  and  vexed  at  this  accidental  turn  of  affairs, 
and  waved  his  hand  to  the  boats  to  desist,  and  come  on  shore  to 
embark  the  marines.  The  pinnace  unhesitatingly  obeyed ;  but 
the  lieutenant  in  the  launch,  instead  of  pulling  in  to  the  assistance 
of  his  commander,  rowed  farther  off,  at  the  very  moment  when  his 
services  were  most  required.  The  marines  crowded  into  the  pin- 
nace with  precipitation  and  confusion,  and  were  so  jammed  to- 
gether that  they  were  unable  to  protect  themselves.  Those  who 
were  on  shore  kept  up  the  fire,  but  the  moment  their  pieces  were 
discharged  the  islanders  rushed  upon  them,  and  forced  the  party 
into  the  water,  where  four  of  them  were  killed  and  the  lieutenant 
wounded1.  When  this  occurred,  Cook  was  standing  alone  on  a 


572  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

rock  near  the  shore.  Seeing,  however,  that  it  was  now  clearly  a 
matter  of  escape,  he  hurried  toward  the  pinnace,  holding  his  left 
arm  round  the  back  of  his  head  to  shield  it  from  stones,  and  car- 
rying his  musket  in  his  right  hand.  A  remarkably  agile  warrior, 
a  relation  of  the  king's,  was  seen  to  follow  him,  and,  before  his 
object  could  be  frustrated,  sprang  forward  upon  the  captain,  and 
struck  him  a  heavy  blow  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and  then  turned 
and  fled.  Cook  staggered  a  few  paces,  dropped  his  musket,  and 
fell  on  his  hands  and  one  knee.  Before  he  could  recover  himself, 
another  islander  rushed  forward,  and  with  an  iron  dagger  stabbed 
him  in  the  neck.  He  sunk  into  the  water,  and  was  immediately 
set  upon  by  a  number  of  savages,  who  tried  to  keep  him  down, 
but  he  succeeded  in  getting  his  head  up.  The  pinnace  was  within 
half  a  dozen  yards  of  him,  and  he  cast  an  imploring  look  as  if  for 
assistance.  The  islanders  forced  him  down  again  in  a  deeper 
place,  but  his  great  muscular  strength  enabled  him  to  recover 
himself  and  cling  to  the*  rock.  He  was  not  there  for  more  than 
a  moment,  when  a  brutal  savage  dealt  him  a  heavy  blow  with  a 
club,  and  he  fell  down  lifeless.  The  Indians  then  hauled  his 
corpse  upon  the  rock,  and  ferociously  stabbed  it  all  over,  handing 
the  dagger  from  one  to  another,  in  order  that  all  might  participate 
in  the  sweet  revenge.  The  body  was  left  some  time  upon  the  rock, 
and  the  islanders  gave  way,  as  though  afraid  of  the  act  they  had 
committed ;  but  there  was  no  attempt  to  recover  it  by  the  ship's 
crew,  and  it  was  subsequently  cut  up,  together  with  the  bodies 
of  the  marines,  and  the  parts  distributed  among  the  chiefs.  The 
mutilated  fragments  were  afterward  restored,  and  committed  to 
the  deep,  with  all  the  honors  due  to  the  rank  of  the  deceased. 
Thus  ingloriously  perished  one  of  England's  greatest  navigators, 
"  whose  services  to  science  have  never  been  surpassed  by  any  man 
belonging  to  his  profession."  It  may  almost  be  said,  says  Mr. 
Robert  Chambers,  that  he  fell  a  victim  to  his  humanity ;  for  if,  in- 
stead of  retreating  before  his  barbarous  pursuers  with  a  view  to 
spare  their  lives,  he  had  turned  revengefully  upon  them,  his  fate 
might  have  been  very  different. 

The  command  of  the  Resolution  devolved  on  Captain  Clerke, 
and  Mr.  Gore  acted  as  commander  of  the  Discovery.  After  mak- 
ing some  further  explorations  among  the  Sandwich  Islands,  the 
vessels  visited  Kamtschatka  and  Behring's  Straits.  There  it  was 
found  impossible  to  accomplish  the  objects  of  the  expedition,  and 


CAPTAIN  JAMES  COOK.  573 

it  returned  southward.  Another  misfortune  befell  the  voyagers. 
On  the  22d  of  August,  1779,  Captain  Clerke  died  of  consump- 
tion. The  ships  visited  Kamtschatka  once  more,  and  then  re- 
turned by  way  of  China,  arriving  in  England  on  the  4th  of  Octo- 
ber, 1780,  after  an  absence  of  four  years,  two  months,  and  twen- 
ty-two days. 

When  it  became  known  in  England  that  Captain  Cook  had 
perished,  all  classes  of  people  expressed  their  sympathy  and  deep 
sorrow.  The  king  granted  a  pension  of  £200  per  annum  to  his 
widow,  and  £25  per  annum  to  each  of  her  children  ;  •  the  Royal 
Society  had  a  gold  medal  struck  in  commemoration  of  his  serv- 
ices, and  at  home  and  abroad  honors  were  scattered  on  his  mem- 
ory. That  Cook  was  justly  entitled  to  these  testimonials  is  be- 
yond a  doubt,  not  only  for  the  good  he  did  his  country,  but  for 
his  own  individual  merit.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  more 
brilliant  instance  of  purely  self-made  greatness.  Starting  in  life 
under  circumstances  of  the  most  depressing  nature,  he  succeeded 
solely  by  the  force  of  industry  in  acquiring  accomplishments 
which  gave  him  the  foremost  place  among  the  scientific  men  of 
his  age.  From  the  obscure  condition  of  a  foremast  man  on  a  col- 
lier he  rose  to  be  the  greatest  discoverer  of  modern  times.  A  re- 
capitulation of  what  he  accomplished  may  appropriately  close 
this  sketch.  He  discovered  New  Caledonia  and  Norfolk  Island, 
New  Georgia,  and  the  Sandwich  and  many  smaller  islands  in  the 
Pacific ;  surveyed  the  Society  Islands,  the  Friendly  Islands,  and 
the  New  Hebrides ;  determined  the  insularity  of  New  Zealand ; 
circumnavigated  the  globe  in  a  high  southern  latitude,  so  as  to 
decide  that  no  continent  existed  north  of  a  certain  parallel ;  ex- 
plored the  then  unknown  eastern  coasts  of  New  Holland  for  two 
thousand  miles  ;  determined  the  proximity  of  Asia  to  America, 
which  the  discoverer  of  Behring's  Straits  did  not  perceive ;  and, 
wherever  he  went,  brought  strange  people  into  communication 
with  the  civilized  world,  through  the  wide  gates  of  commerce  and 
mutual  interest. 

The  rock  where  Captain  Cook  fell  is  an  object  of  curiosity  in 
Hawaii  to  the  present  day.  The  natives  point  it  out  with  sorrow, 
and  show  the  stump  of  a  cocoanut-tree,  where  they  say  he  ex- 
pired. The  upper  part  of  this  tree  has  been  carried  to  England, 
and  is  preserved  in  the  museum  of  Greenwich  Hospital.  On  the 


574  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

remaining  stump,  which  has  been  carefully  capped  with  copper, 
is  the  following  inscription : 

Near  this  spot  • 

fell 
CAPTAIN  JAMES  COOK,  R.  N., 

the 
renowned  circumnavigator 

who 

discovered  these  islands, 
A.D.  1778. 


GEORGE   STEPHENSON. 

THE  most  remarkable  social  results  of  the  nineteenth  century 
in  America,  in  Europe,  and  in  other  parts  of  the  world  less  open 
to  the  ever-operating  influences  of  civilization,  have  been  obtain- 
ed by  the  introduction  of  steam,  and  especially  of  its  young,  rap- 
id, and  vigorous  creation,  the  locomotive  engine.  In  a  brief  space 
of  time,  so  brief  that  it  seems  like  a  dream,  vast  continents  and 
strange  peoples  have  been  banded  together  into  one  social  union, 
depending  on  each  other  for  the  necessaries  of  life,  and  sharing 
with  fraternal  pleasure  its  courtesies  and  hospitable  cheer.  Local 
animosities  and  petty  jealousies  have  disappeared  like  the  ugly 
hobgoblin  of  old  story,  and  in  their  place  stalwart  manhood  con- 
fronts the  time  with  open  brow  and  genial  smile.  Truth  travels 
from  land  to  land  with  the  speed  of  lightning,  and  the  most  re- 
mote corners  of  the  habitable  globe  are  no  longer  strangers  to  its 
beneficence.  It  has  ceased  to  dwell  at  the  bottom  of  a  well,  cold 
and  passive,  as  of  old.  In  our  days  it  leads  a  pretty  fast  life, 
hurrying  from  place  to  place  at  a  speed  of  thirty  or  forty  miles  an 
hour,  and  never  resting. 


576  SELF-MAUE  MEN. 

Great  efforts  were  required  to  accomplish  this  desirable  result, 
and  men  and  nations  have  strained  themselves  to  bring  it  to  a 
happy  issue.  The  capital  which  has  been  created  and  expended 
in  the  formation  of  railroads  is  of  marvelous  magnitude.  Within 
a  little  period  of  thirty  years  more  money  has  been  spent  in  this 
single  undertaking  than  had  been  used  in  all  the  commercial  spec- 
ulations of  a  century.  In  Great  Britain  alone  (1855)  not  less 
than  fourteen  hundred  million  dollars  have  been  sunk  in  the  con- 
struction of  8297  miles  of  road.  In  America  a  smaller  sum  has 
sufficed  for  the  construction  of  much  more  extensive  works — not 
less  than  26,000  miles  of  railroad  being  now  in  active  opera- 
tion. Not  only  do  we  possess  the  longest  railroads  in  the  world, 
but  the  cheapest  Practically,  too,  we  have  given  them  a  new  use 
Instead  of  merely  facilitating  travel  between  existing  communi- 
ties, as  in  Europe,  they  are  to  us  the  best  of  pioneers.  Their 
sturdy  limbs  tread  the  way  through  the  surly  forest  and  the  slum- 
bering valleys.  Thousands  follow  in  the  path  trodden  with  such 
vigor,  and  a  prosperous  commonwealth  ensues,  adding  vitality  and 
new  wealth  to  our  exuberant  national  being. 

The  founder,  and,  to  a  great  extent,  the  inventor  of  the  present 
system  of  locomotion,  was  George  Stephenson,  a  very  humble  per- 
son for  one  half  of  his  life,  but  for  the  rest  recognized  as  a  bene- 
t factor  of  his  age,  and  the  coequal  of  Watt,  Fulton,  Arkwright, 
and  Brindley.  Mr.  Stephenson  was  born  on  the  9th  of  June, 
1781,  in  a  tenement  house  occupied  by  colliers,  and  located  in  the 
little  village  of  Wylam,  Durham,  England.  He  was  the  second 
of  a  family  of  six  children,  all  of  whom  were  dependent  on  the  ex- 
ertions of  the  father,  Robert  Stephenson,  familiarly  called  "  Old 
Bob,"  a  hard-working  and  thrifty  man,  who  was  fireman  to  a  shaft 
engine  at  a  salary  of  twelve  shillings  a  week. 

The  collier  folk  of  the  north  of  England  are  pre-eminently  a 
migrating  race.  They  have  to  follow  the  coal,  and  only  wait  un- 
til it  is  all  "  won"  before  they  shift  their  quarters  to  some  new 
pit.  The  Stephensons  removed  to  Dewley  Burn  before  George 
had  reached  his  eighth  year,  and  it  was  hi  this  cold  and  cheerless 
place  that  the  boy  obtained  his  first  employment.  He  was  too 
young  to  find  work  in  the  colliery,  but  too  big  to  remain  idle.  A 
widow  woman,  who  had  some  cows  and  some  turnips  that  needed 
attention,  made  him  an  offer,  which  he  at  once  accepted.  He  be- 
came a  kind  of  smoky  shepherd  at  the  magnificent  salary  of  two- 
pence per  day. 


GEORGE  STEPHENSON.  577 

Brought  up  among  steam-engines,  it  was  natural  that  he  should 
regard  them  with  extreme  admiration,  and  that  he  should  look 
forward  to  the  day  when,  like  his  father,  he  would  enjoy  the  ex- 
treme happiness  of  making  the  fire  blaze  beneath  their  hissing 
boilers.  This  was  his  ambition,  and  it  was  bold,  considering  the 
depressing  circumstances  by  which  he  was  surrounded.  For  the 
present  he  fed  his  hope  with  the  childlike  amusement  of  making 
mud  engines,  fitted  up  with  steam-pipes  from  hemlock  stems,  and 
he  built  little  wheels  for  obtaining  imaginary  power  from  the 
neighboring  streams.  These  things  clearly  indicated  the  bent  of 
his  mind.  He  never  for  a  moment,  even  in  his  play,  lost  sight  of 
his  determination  to  become  an  engine-man. 

It  was  some  years  before  he  could  take  the  first  step  in  this 
direction.  At  length,  however,  his  father  undertook  to  engage 
him  as  assistant  fireman  at  the  Denley  pit.  This  was  a  most 
encouraging  promotion,  and  gave  him  great  satisfaction.  But  he 
was  still  a  very  little  fellow  for  the  employment,  and  was  dread- 
fully afraid  that  he  would  be  considered  too  young  by  the  owner. 
Whenever  this  magnate  made  his  rounds,  therefore,  George  clear- 
ed out  of  the  way,  and  remained  out  of  sight  until  his  back  was 
turned.  For  assisting  his  father  he  received  a  shilling  a  day ;  but, 
magnificent  as  was  this  remuneration,  it  was  not  the  great  charm 
of  his  engagement.  This  lay  in  the  fact  that  the  first  step  toward 
the  point  of  his  ambition  was  accomplished.  If  a  man  of  modest 
abilities  and  ordinary  perseverance  sets  his  mind  on  accomplishing 
a  scheme  of  life,  it  is  generally  his  own  fault  if  he  does  not  suc- 
ceed. Stephenson  was  aware  of  this  fact,  and  became,  in  conse- 
quence, habitually  painstaking  and  steady.  He  neglected  no  op- 
portunity of  making  himself  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  duties 
of  the  engine-room.  He  studied  the  machinery  night  and  day, 
until  he  knew  the  use  of  every  part.  A  kind  of  personal  intimacy 
sprang  up  between  him  and  the  engine,  which,  in  the  end,  was 
certainly  mutually  advantageous.  At  the  age  of  fifteen  he  became 
fireman,  and  shortly  after  was  appointed  engine-man  to  a  colliery. 
"  I  am  now  a  made  man  for  life,"  he  cried,  triumphantly. 

George  Stephenson  quickly  gained  the  reputation  of  being  a 
good  mechanic,  and  a  workman  of  uncommon  penetration  and 
forethought.  He  was  now  in  his  eighteenth  year,  very  steady 
and  reliable,  and  possessed  of  excellent  practical  information  con- 
cerning machinery,  but  in  other  respect?  completely  uneducated. 

B  B 


578  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

He  had  never  attended  a  school,  and  was  unable  to  read  and  write. 
His  time  was  laboriously  occupied  with  the  duties-  of  his  calling 
for  at  least  .twelve  hours  of  the  day  ;  after  that,  he  was  still  to  be 
found  in  the  engine-room,  taking  to  pieces  and  cleaning  his  pet 
engine.  At  other  times  he  took  recreation  in  manly  sports,  and 
improved  his  native  strength.  He  was  remarkably  active  and 
dexterous,  and  could  bid  defiance  to  all  his  associates  in  feats  of 
strength.  At  one  time  he  could  raise  sixty  stone's  weight  from 
the  ground. 

He  began  to  feel  that  the  want  of  an  education  was  a  serious 
bar  to  his  future  progress,  and  determined,  with  that  decision  of 
character  for  which  he  was  remarkable,  to  remedy  the  deficiency 
jis  far  as  in  him  lay  the  power.  Big  as  he  was,  he  went  to  the 
village  school,  and  commenced  his  A  B  C  like  a  little  child.  He 
made  good  progress,  and  before  he  had  reached  his  nineteenth 
birth-day  he  enjoyed  the  happiness  of  signing  his  own  name  in  a 
bold,  legible  hand.  Subsequently  he  studied  arithmetic,  mathe- 
matics, practical  and  experimental  philosophy,  mechanics,  and 
similar  subjects,  with  marked  success.  He  had  a  fine  memory, 
and  an  understanding  easily  impressed.  Moreover,  he  was  simple 
and  modest,  and  never  ashamed  of  acknowledging  his  ignorance. 

When  he  was  twenty  years  of  age  he  became  brakesman  at  the 
Black  Callerton  Colliery,  and  received  the  best  wages  paid  to  men 
of  his  class.  Being  of  a  thrifty  turn,  and  in  love  with  a  pretty 
village  lass,  he  sought  to  increase  his  earnings  by  extra  work. 
As  this  could  not  be  obtained  at  the  colliery,  he  contrived  to  ob- 
tain a  knowledge  of  shoemaking,  and  patched  up  the  boots  and 
shoes  of  his  fellow- workmen,  to  say  nothing  of  the  slippers  of  his 
sweetheart,  which  he  repaired  in  the  most  skillful  manner.  He 
became  quite  expert  in  this  business,  and  from  its  exercise  man- 
aged to  save  enough  money  to  furnish  a  home  for  the  future 
bride. 

He  was  much  too  steady  for  some  of  the  men  at  the  colliery, 
and  one  bully,  who  felt  personally  insulted  by  any  thing  which 
bore  the  semblance  of  respectability,  insulted  Stephenson,  and  in- 
vited him  to  a  combat.  To  the  surprise  of  every  one,  he  accepted 
the  challenge.  The  bully  immediately  abandoned  his  work  and 
went  into  training.  Stephenson  said  nothing,  but,  on  the  day 
of  battle,  coolly  walked  down  from  his  work,  pulled  off  his  coat, 
rolled  up  his  sleeves,  and  went  to  work  at  the  head  of  his  oppo- 


GEORGE  STEPHENSON.  579 

nent  as  if  it  were  a  part  of  his  contract  with  the  owners  of  the 
colliery.  The  combatants  pummeled  each  other  for  some  time, 
but  the  bully  was  powerless  beneath  the  plucky  might  of  Ste- 
phenson.  He  was  glad  to  cry  for  quarter,  and  sneak  away,  a  bet- 
ter and  a  blacker  man.  It  was  Stephenson' s  first  and  last  battle. 

In  1802,  Stephenson  removed  to  Willington  Quay,  near  New- 
castle-on-Tyne,  and  was  married  to  the  young  and  estimable  wom- 
an whose  shoes  he  had  soled  on  a  former  occasion.  Here  he  pur- 
sued his  old  steady  course,  working,  studying,  and  mending  shoes. 
Owing  to  an  accidental  insight  into  the  mysteries  of  clock-mak- 
ing, he  was  able  to  add  a  new  profession  to  his  other  employments. 
He  became  a  famous  clock  doctor.  All  the  wheezy  old  time- 
pieces of  the  place  were  sent  to  him,  and  some  of  his  cures  were 
.«aid  to  be  remarkable. 

After  remaining  three  years  in  Willington  he  removed  to  Kil- 
lingworth  (1804),  one  of  the  scenes  of  his  subsequent  triumphs. 
Here  he  was  overtaken  by  a  severe  calamity,  the  death  of  his 
wife.  The  depression  which  this  event  produced  induced  him  to 
accept  an  offer  to  work  an  engine  in  Scotland,  whither  he  pro- 
ceeded. After  nearly  a  year's  absence  he  returned  to  Killing- 
worth,  where  his  only  child,  a  little  boy  (Robert  Stephenson,  the 
eminent  engineer),  was  being  nursed.  He  had  saved  upward  of 
twenty-eight  pounds  in  Scotland,  and  the  arrival  of  this  little  fund 
was  most  timely.  He  rescued  his  father  from  pecuniary  difficul- 
ties brought  about  by  a  very  dreadful  accident,  and  with  the  bal- 
ance procured  a  substitute  for  the  militia,  in  which  service  he  had 
been  drawn.  The  mining  districts  were  greatly  depressed  at  this 
time,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  even  an  industrious  man  like 
Stephenson  could  procure  a  sufficiency  of  work.  He  allowed  no 
means  to  go  untried.  He  did  all  that  was  to  be  done  at  the  col- 
liery ;  repaired  and  made  boots  and  shoes ;  cleaned  and  doctored 
clocks  and  watches,  and  even,  it  is  said,  cut  out  clothes  for  the 
pitmen's  wives.  He  was  stimulated  to  unusual  exertion  by  the 
determination  to  provide  an  education  for  his  son,  who  was  now 
advancing  to  an  age  when  he  might  receive  the  rudiments. 

A  man  like  Stephenson,  who  took  a  pride  in  understanding  the 
practical  construction  of  the  machines  under  his  control,  had,  of 
course,  many  opportunities  for  displaying  his  ingenuity ;  but  the 
first  really  important  case  in  which  his  skill  was  severely  put  to 
the  test  wa*  in  remedying  the  defects  of  an  engine  which  had  de- 


580  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

tied  all  the  talent  of  the  best  engineers  of  the  neighborhood,  and 
of  the  maker  himself.  Stephenson  found  out  the  difficulty  and 
remedied  it.  For  this  he  received  ten  pounds'  remuneration,  and, 
what  was  more  important  to  him,  the  appointment  of  engine-man 
to  the  colliery.  In  addition,  he  acquired  the  reputation  of  being 
the  best  engine  doctor  in  the  northern  country,  which  unques- 
tionably he  was. 

Stephenson's  promotion  (in  1812)  to  the  rank  of  engine-wright 
was  a  source  of  great  rejoicing  to  him.  He  was  now,  in  a  meas- 
ure, relieved  from  the  daily  routine  of  manual  labor,  although,  in 
reality,  his  duties  were  much  heavier  than  before.  All  the  en- 
gines and  machinery  of  the  colliery  were  placed  under  his  control, 
and  he  was  allowed  to  modify  and  alter  them  as  he  thought  best. 
He  introduced  many  improvements,  both  in  the  machinery  of  the 
shaft,  and  in  the  iron  tram-ways,  or  railroads  leading  from  it. 
He  had  devoted  a  good  deal  of  attention  to  the  subject  of  rail- 
roads, and  was  perfectly  familiar  with  all  the  experiments  that 
had  been  made  to  introduce  the  locomotive.  Their  huge  and  cum- 
brous wheels,  cogs,  screws,  pistons,  and  levers  had  been  tried  in 
the  haulage  of  wagons ;  but  the  speed  accomplished  was  so  tedi- 
ous, and  the  wear  and  tear  so  disastrous,  that  they  were  in  most 
cases  abandoned.  Stephenson,  however,  was  not  slow  to  perceive 
the  immense  advantages  which  would  result  from  the  use  of  a 
power  so  enormous  as  that  promised  by  the  locomotive,  provided 
it  could  be  brought  into  proper  subjection,  and  already  he  began 
to  perceive  how  this  might  be  accomplished. 

Setting  himself  down  to  the  systematic  study  of  the  subject, 
he  soon  ascertained  the  cause  of  failure  in  preceding  models,  and 
declared  that  he  could  make  an  engine  much  better  than  any  that 
existed.  To  accomplish  this  Mr.  Stephenson  now  applied  himself. 
He  was  warmly  encouraged  by  the  owners  of  the  colliery  in  which 
he  worked,  and  in  which  his  ingenuity  had  been  so  often  tested. 
Lord  Ravensworth  (one  of  the  proprietors)  advanced  the  necessary 
funds  for  the  work,  and,  in  remembrance  of  this,  Stephenson  called 
his  first  engine  "My  Lord."* 

The  engine,  after  much  labor  and  anxiety,  and  frequent  alter- 
ations of  parts,  was  at  length  completed,  having  been  about  ten 
months  in  hand.  It  was  first  placed  upon  the  Killingworth  Rail- 
road on  the  25th  of  July,  1814,  and  its  powers  were  tried  on  the 
same  day.  On  an  ascending  gradient  of  1  in  450,  the  engine  sue- 


GEORGE  STEPHENSON.  581 

ceeded  in  drawing  after  it  eight  leaded  carriages  of  thirty  tons 
weight  at  about  four  miles  an  hour ;  and  for  some  time  after  it 
continued  regularly  at  work.  Stephenson  justified  his  boast,  and 
really  had  produced  the  most  successful  working  engine  yet  con- 
structed. Still,  it  was  very  defective,  and  did  not  give  promise 
of  economical  advantages  over  horse-power.  The  speed  attained 
was  little  better  than  a  horse's  walk,  and  it  was  found  difficult  to 
increase  it,  owing  to  the  slow  combustion  of  fuel.  He  now  direct- 
ed all  his  energies  to  this  subject,  and  in  a  short  time  added  the 
steam-blast  to  his  engine.  The  experiment  was  no  sooner  made 
than  the  locomotive's  power  became  doubled.  He  introduced 
many  other  improvements,  and  in  1815  built  his  second  locomo- 
tive, combining  all  the  results  of  his  discoveries  and  improvements. 
For  this  he  obtained  a  patent.  Its  advantages  over  any  other 
machine  are  thus  described  :  simple  and  direct  communication 
between  the  cylinder  and  the  wheels  rolling  upon  the  rails ;  joint 
adhesion  of  all  the  wheels,  attained  by  the  use  of  horizontal  con- 
necting rods ;  and,  finally,  a  beautiful  method  of  exciting  the'  com- 
bustion of  the  fuel  by  employing  the  waste  steam,  which  had  for- 
merly been  allowed  uselessly  to  escape  into  the  air.  Although 
many  improvements  in  detail  were  afterward  introduced  in  the 
locomotive  by  Mr.  Stephenson  himself,  as  well  as  by  his  equally 
distinguished  son,  it  is  perhaps  not  too  much  to  say  that  this  en- 
gine, as  a  mechanical  contrivance,  contained  the  germ  of  all  that 
has  since  been  effected.  It  may,  in  fact,  be  regarded  as  the  type 
of  the  present  locomotive  engine. 

Many  years  elapsed  before  this  important  discovery  (for  so  it 
may  be  termed)  excited  even  the  curiosity  of  the  scientific.  Ste- 
phenson was  but  a  humble,  self-taught  mechanic  at  a  colliery, 
and  no  one  thought  it  worth  while  to  pay  any  attention  to  him. 
Professional  engineers  wrapped  themselves  in  the  dignity  of  their 
calling,  and  refused  to  have  any  thing  to  say  to  an  upstart  who 
pretended  to  do  more  than  they  could.  * 

In  the  mean  time^tephenson  directed  his  attention  to  another 
subject.  The  loss  of  life  from  the  explosion  of  fire-damp  in  the 
mines  was  frequent  and  disastrous.  To  prevent  this,  he  proposed 
to  invent  a  safety-lamp  which  would  not  ignite  the  dangerous  gas, 
and  yet  be  sufficient  for  the  purposes  of  the  miners.  He  did  not 
know  that  Sir  Humphrey  Davy,  the  most  eminent  chemist  in  the 
country,  was  engaged  on  a  similar  subject,  and  with  opportunities 


582  *  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

of  investigating  if  that  were  utterly  denied  to  the  poor  engine- 
wright.  Trusting  to  his  practical  knowledge  of  what  was  want- 
ed, he  went  to  work,'  and,  at  the  risk  of  his  own  life,  made  experi- 
ments which  resulted  in  a  safety-lamp  used  to  the  present  day, 
and  entirely  effective.  •  Although  wrought  out  on  purely  mechan- 
ical principles  by  the  inventor,  it  is  philosophically  the  same  as 
Davy's.  Its  similarity,  indeed,  led  to  a  controversy,  which  was 
conducted  with  the  usual  ferocity  of  such  discussions.  Stephen- 
son,  however,  was  presented  with  a  testimonial  and  a  purse  of  one 
thousand  guineas  for  the  public  benefit  he  had  conferred  on  the 
mining  -community.  This  sum  he  subsequently  invested  in  estab- 
lishing his  extensive  works  at  Newcastle.  • 

Railroads,  up  to  this  period,  were  confined  exclusively  to  the 
mining  districts,  and  there  their  use  was  restricted  to  the  haulage 
of  coals.  The  application  of  steam  for  the  conveyance  of  passen- 
ge'rs  was  not  even  dreamed  of.  Professed  engineers  endeavored 
to  find  out  how  a  steam  carriage  could  be  constructed  to  run  on 
the  ordinary  turnpike  roads,  and  many  ingenious  contrivances 
were  made  and  patented ;  but  they  all  proved  to  be  of  no  practi- 
cal utility.  From  the  first,  Stephenson  declared  that  the  thing 
was  impossible,  and  maintained  that  the  only  correct  plan  was 
to  construct  iron  tramways  as  nearly  flat -as  possible,  and  to  use 
locomotives.  He  declared  his  conviction,  moreover,  that  in  a 
few  years  communication  would  be  maintained  entirely  by  these 
means. 

His  remarks  were  listened  to  with  the  usual  indifference  ;  men 
went  on  wasting  money  on  steam  carriages  for  the  common  roads ; 
and  Stephenson  bided  his  time,  in  full  confidence  that  it  would  yet 
come.  For  ten  years  he  was,  perhaps,  the  only  man  in  the  king- 
dom who  took  any  sustained  interest  in  locomotives. 

Stephenson's  reputation  was  purely  local,  but  it  was  of  service 
to  him.  A  number  of  gentlemen,  mostly  Quakers,  contemplated 
building  *a  railroad,  to  be  worked  with  horse -power,  from  the 
town  of  Darlington  to  the  town  of  Stockton,  on  the  River  Tees. 
Foremost  among  these  was  a  very  enterprising  and  wealthy  gen- 
tleman named  Pease.  To  this  gentleman  Stephenson  presented 
himself.  The  plans  being  still  in  a  very  unsettled  state,  Mr. 
Pease  was  glad  to  have  the  opportunity  of  gathering  from  him 
the  results  of  his  experience,  but  was  a  little  startled  when  his 
visitor  declared  his  preference  for  the  locomotive  over  horse-pow 


GEORGE  STEPHENSON.  583 

er.  "Come  over  to  Killingworth,"  he  said,  "and  see  what  my 
'Blucher'  can  do.  Seeing  is  believing,  sir."  Mr.  Pease  went, 
and  was  not  only  astonished,  but  convinced  that  Stephenson  was 
right.  Still,  it  was  a  bold  idea,  and  his  coadjutors  were  not  pre- 
pared for  it ;  so  the  Stockton  and  Darlington  Railroad  was  con- 
structed for  the  conveyance  of  goods  by  means  of  horses,  inclined 
planes,  and  stationary  engines.  A  clause,  however,  was  inserted 
in  the  act,  enabling  the  projectors,  if  they  felt  disposed,  to  use  lo- 
comotives, and  Mr.  Pease  promised  that  Stephenson  (who  had 
been  appointed  engineer  of  the  road  at  a  salary  of  £300  per  an- 
num) should  have  a  fair  trial. 

The  Stockton  and  Darlington  Railroad  (the  first  complete  rail- 
road in  the  world)  was  opened  for  traffic  on  the  27th  of  Septem- 
ber, 1825,  and  one  of  Stephenson's  engines  was  tried.  It  was  at- 
tached to  a  train  consisting  of  six  wagons  loaded  with  coals  and 
flour ;  after  these  was  the  passenger  coach,  filled  with  the  direct- 
ors and  their  friends,  and  then  twenty-one  wagons,  fitted  up  with 
temporary  seats  for  passengers  ;  and  lastly  came  six  wagon-loads 
of  coals,  making,  in  all,  a  train  of  thirty-eight  vehicles.  "  The 
signal  being  given,"  says  a  local  chronicler,  "  the  engine  started 
off  with  this  immense  train  of  carriages,  and  such  was  its  veloci- 
ty that,  in  some  parts,  the  speed  was  frequently  twelve  miles  an 
hour ;  and  at  that  time  the  number  of  passengers  was  counted  to 
be  450,  which,  together  with  the  coals,  merchandise,  and  carriages, 
would  amount  to  nearly  90  tons."  A  large  passenger  traffic  im- 
mediately  sprang  up,  and  was,  of  course,  a  source  of  unexpected 
profit.  Three  of  Stephenson's  engines  were  from  the  first  employ- 
ed, but,  in  spite  of  their  acknowledged  superiority,  it  was  some 
years  before  locomotives  were  used  uniformly  in  preference  to  oth- 
er power.  Mr.  Pease's  confidence  in  Stephenson  was  unbounded, 
and  he  became  a  partner  in  the  locomotive  works  which  subse- 
quently were  started  in  Newcastle. 

With  the  successful  issue  of  the  Stockton  and  Darlington  proj- 
ect the  practicability  of  railroads  became  an  established  fact,  and 
other  schemes  were  immediately  set  on  foot.  The  most  import- 
ant of  these  was  the  Liverpool  and  Manchester  Railroad.  The 
bill  for  constructing  this  line  was  opposed  with  great  violence  by 
the  canal  proprietors,  whose  monopoly  it  destroyed,  and  for  a  time 
their  opposition  was  successful ;  but  finally  the  bill  was  granted. 
Mr.  Stephenson  was  engaged  as  the  engineer  of  the  line,  and  had 


584  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

to  undergo  the  ordeal  of  an  examination  before  a  committee  of 
the  House  of  Commons.  Referring  to  this  matter  many  years 
after,  he  says,  "The  directors  of  the  undertaking  thought  ten  miles 
an  hour  would  be  a  maximum  speed  for  the  locomotive  engine, 
and  I  pledged  myself  to  attain  that  speed.  I  said  I  had  no  doubt 
that  the  locomotive  might  be  made  to  go  much  faster,  but  we  had 
better  be  moderate  at  the  beginning.  The  directors  said  I  was 
quite  right ;  for  if,  when  they  went  to  Parliament,  I  talked  of  go- 
ing at  a  greater  rate  than  ten  miles  an  hour,  I  should  put  a  cross 
on  the  concern  !  It  was  not  an  easy  task  for  me  to  keep  the  en- 
gine down  to  ten  miles  an  hour,  but  it  must  be  done,  and  I  did 
my  best.  I  had  to  place  myself  in  the  most  unpleasant  of  all  po- 
sitions, the  witness-box  of  a  parliamentary  committee.  I  was  not 
long  in  it,  I  assure  you,  before  I  began  to  wish  for  a  hole  to  creep 
out  at.  I  could  not  find  words  to  satisfy  the  committee  or  my- 
self, or  even  to  make  them  understand  my  meaning.  Some  said, 
*  He's  a  foreigner.'  '  No,'  others  replied, '  he's  mad.'  But  I  put 
up  with  every  rebuff,  and  went  on  with  my  plans,  determined  not 
to  be  put  down." 

It  was  by  no  means  certain  that  locomotives  would  be  used,  al- 
though so  much  trouble  had  been  gone  through  to  obtain  parlia- 
mentary permission  for  the  purpose.  The  majority  of  the  stock- 
holders were  still  in  favor  of  stationary  engines  and  horse-power, 
and  were  disposed  to  look  on  locomotives  as  costly  experiments. 
*Stephenson  exerted  himself  to  remove  this  erroneous  impression, 
and  succeeded  in  getting  permission  to  use  an  engine  in  the  con- 
struction of  the  works,  which  were  of  a  gigantic  kind,  and  entire- 
ly beyond  any  thing  which  had  ever  been  attempted  in  England. 
This  locomotive  was  found  to  be  of  great  service  in  drawing  the 
wagons  full  of  marl  from  the  two  great  cuttings.  The  directors 
became  a  little  softened,  and  listened  to  Stephenson's  protesta- 
tiong  with  greater  respect.  At  length  they  determined  to  offer  a 
prize  of  £500  for  the  best  locomotive  engine  which,  on  a  certain 
day,  should  be  produced,  and  perform  certain  conditions  in  the 
most  satisfactory  manner.  The  conditions  were  these : 

1.  The  engine  must  effectually  consume  its  own  smoke. 

2.  The  engine,  if  of  six  tons'  weight,  must  be  able  to  draw  after 
it,  day  by  day,  twenty  tons'  weight  (including  the  tender  and  wa- 
ter-tank), at  ten  miles  an  hour,  with  a  pressure  of  steam  on  the 
boiler  not  exceeding  fifty  pounds  to  the  square  inch. 


GEORGE  STEPHENSON.  585 

3.  The  boiler  must  have  two  safety-valves,  neither  of  which 
must  be  fastened  down,  and  one  of  them  be  completely  out  of  the 
control  of  the  engine-man. 

4.  The  engine  and  boiler  must  be  supported  on  springs,  and 
rest  on  six  wheels,  the  height  of  the  whole  not  exceeding  fifteen 
feet  to  the  top  of  the  chimney. 

5.  The  engine,  with  water,  must  not  weigh  more  than  six  tons, 
but  an  engine  of  less  weight  would  be  preferred,  on  its  drawing  a 
proportionate  load  behind  it :  if  of  only  four  and  a  half  tons,  then 
it  might  be  put  on  only  four  wheels.     The  company  to  be  at  lib- 
erty to  test  the  boiler,  etc.,  by  a  pressure  of  one  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  to  the  square  inch. 

6.  A  mercurial  gauge  must  be  affixed  to  the  machine,  showing 
the  steam  pressure  above  forty-five  pounds  per  square  inch. 

7.  The  engine  must  be  delivered  complete  and  ready  for  trial 
at  the  Liverpool  end  of  the  railway  not  later  than  the  1st  of  Oc- 
tober, 1829. 

8.  The  price  of  the  engine  must  not  exceed  £550. 

On  the  day  appointed  for  the  competition,  the  following  engines 
were  entered  for  the  prize  : 

1.  Messrs.  Braithwaite  &  Ericsson's  "Novelty." 

2.  Mr.  Timothy  Hackworth's  "  Sanspareil." 

3.  Mr.  Robert  Stephenson's  "Rocket." 

4.  Mr.  Burstall's  "Perseverance." 

The  ground  on  which  the  engines  were  to  be  tried  was  a  level 
piece  of  railroad  on  the  new  line  near  Rainhill,  about  two  mileS 
in  length.  Each  engine  was  to  make  twenty  trips,  or  equal  to  a 
journey  of  seventy  miles,  in  the  course  of  the  day,  and  the  average 
rate  of  traveling  was  not  to  be  under  ten  miles  an  hour.  The  trial 
was  appointed  to  take  place  on  the  6th  of  October,  1829 — a  day 
which  deserves  to  be  historical,  so  great  were  its  results. 

Mr.  Stephenson's  engine  was  the  first  to  be  in  readiness,  and  it 
immediately  entered  upon  the  contest.  The  engine  was  taken  to 
the  extremity  of  the  stage,  the  fire-box  was  filled  with  coke,  the 
fire  lighted,  and  the  steam  raised  until  it  lifted  the  safety-valve, 
loaded  to  a  pressure  of  fifty  pounds  to  the  square  inch.  This 
proceeding  occupied  fifty-seven  minutes.  The  engine  then  start- 
ed on  its  journey,  dragging  after  it  about  thirteen  tons'  weight  in 
wagons,  and  made  the  first  ten  trips  backward  and  forward  along 
the  two  miles  of  road,  running  the  thirty-five  miles,  including 

Bu2 


586  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

stoppages,  in  an  hour  and  forty-eight  minutes.  The  second  ten 
trips  were  in  like  manner  performed  in  two  hours  and  three  min- 
utes. The  maximum  velocity  attained  by  the  "  Rocket"  during 
the  trial  trip  was  twenty-nine  miles  an  hour,  or  about  three  times 
the  speed  that  one  of  the  judges  of  the  competition  declared  to 
be  the  limit  of  possibility.  The  entire  performance  excited  the 
greatest  astonishment  among  the  assembled  spectators ;  the  di- 
rectors felt  confident  that  their  enterprise  was  now  on  the  eve  of 
success,  and  George  Stephenson  rejoiced  to  think  that,  in  spite 
of  all  false  prophets  and  fickle  counselors,  his  locomotive  system 
was  safe. 

The  other  engines  were  tried,  but  were  so  much  inferior  to 
Stephenson's  that  the  prize  of  £500  was  unanimously  awarded 
to  him.  The  public  were  so  well  satisfied  with  the  experiment 
that  the  shares  of  the  company  immediately  went  up  ten  per  cent. 
When  the  line  was  opened  in  September,  1830,  other  engines  made 
by  Mr.  Stephenson  far  eclipsed  the  performances  of  the  "  Rocket." 
The  "Northumbrian"  engine  conveyed  the  wounded  body  of  a  gen- 
tleman who  had  met  with  an  accident  a  distance  of  fifteen  miles 
in  twenty-five  minutes,  or  at  the  rate  of  thirty-six  miles  an  hour. 
This  incredible  speed  burst  upon  the  world  with  all  the  effect  of 
a  new  and  unlooked-for  phenomenon. 

Stephenson's  career  was  fairly  commenced.  From  1825  to 
1847  he  was  recognized  as  the  first  railroad  engineer  of  his  coun- 
try. Orders  for  locomotives  came  in  from  all  parts  of  the  world, 
and  his  workshops  were  crowded  with  busy  artisans.  Personally, 
his  services  were  in  great  demand,  and  every  company  who  ob- 
tained a  bill  tried  to  give  it  importance  by  getting  Stephenson's 
name  on  it.  But,  with  the  exception  of  three  or  four  principal 
lines  entirely  constructed  by  him,  he  did  not  lend  himself  to  any 
new  schemes.  He  had  as  much  to  attend  to  as  he  could  under- 
take. He  had  accomplished  the  object  of  his  life,  and  felt  disposed 
to  relax  from  his  severe  exertions.  Before  arriving  at  this  con- 
clusion, he  paid  a  visit  to  France,  Belgium,  and  Spain,  and  was 
extensively  honored  in  those  countries.  His  visit  to  Spain  was 
extremely  hurried,  and  occasioned  a  sickness  from  which  he  never 
entirely  recovered.  His  constitution,  so  strong  and  hardy,  became 
sensitive  to  disease.  He  contracted  an  intermittent  fever,  and  was 
carried  off,  after  a  few  days'  sickness,  on  the  12th  of  August,  1848, 
in  the  sixty-seventh  year  of  his  age. 


GEORGE  STEPHENSON.  587 

Mr.  Stephenson,  in  the  latter  years  of  his  life,  was  greatly  as- 
sisted by  his  son  Robert,  and  it  is  almost  impossible  to  separate 
the  works  of  one  from  the  other.  At  the  present  day  Mr.  Rob- 
ert Stephenson  is  probably  the  most  eminent  engineer  in  the 
world.  n 

Mr.  George  Stephenson  was  a  remarkable  instance  of  the 
strength  of  purpose  which  is  so  often  found  in  self-made  men. 
He  would  never  admit  that  he  possessed  more  genius  than  others, 
but  he  was  proud  of  his  perseverance,  and  to  this  inestimable 
quality  he  attributed  all  his  success  in  life.  It  is,  indeed,  the  key- 
stone of  all  human  greatness,  and  when  supported  by  sobriety  and 
conscientiousness,  never  fails  in  achieving  distinction.  In  the 
present  instance,  we  behold  a  man  struggling  with  the  direst  pov- 
erty, yet  fiercely  grasping  one  grand  idea,  with  the  intention  of 
making  itr  his  own,  sooner  or  later.  From  this  intention  he  nev- 
er swerved.  By  patient  labor  he  made  himself  master  of  all  the 
knowledge  that  was  immediately  essential  to  his  purpose.  He 
gradually  conquered  the  mechanism  of  the  steam-engine,  so  that, 
when  opportunity  offered,  he  was  enabled  to  improve  it,  and  to 
make  it  work  when  even  its  own  maker  was  baffled.  He  prac- 
tically studied  hydraulics  in  the  same  plodding  way,  when  acting 
as  plug-man ;  and  when  all  the  local  pump-doctors  at  Killing- 
worth  were  in  despair,  he  stepped  in  and  successfully  applied  the 
knowledge  which  he  had  so  laboriously  gained.  The  battle  which 
he  fought  for  the  locomotive  would  have  discouraged  most  other 
men,  but  it  only  served  to  bring  into  prominence  his  sterling  qual- 
ities. "  I  have  fought,"  he  said,  "  for  the  locomotive  single-hand- 
ed for  nearly  twenty  years,  having  no  engineer  to  help  me  until  I 
had  raised  engineers  under  my  own  care."  He  persevered  and 
he  conquered. 

In  his  deportment  Mr.  Stephenson  was  simple,  modest,  and  un- 
assuming, but  always  manly.  "  When  a  humble  workman,"  says 
his  biographer,  "  he  had  carefully  preserved  his  self-respect.  His 
companions  looked  up  to  him,  and  his  example  was  worth  even 
more,  to  many  of  them,  than  books  or  schools.  His  devoted  love 
of  knowledge  made  his  poverty  respectable,  and  adorned  his  hum- 
ble calling.  When  he  rose  to  a  more  elevated  station,  and  asso- 
ciated with  men  of  the  highest  position  and  influence  in  Britain, 
he  took  his  place  among  them  with  perfect  self-possession.  They 
wondered  at  the  quiet  ease  and  simple  dignity  of  his  deportment, 


588  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

and  men  in  the  best  ranks  of  life  have  said  of  him  that  '  he  was 
one  of  nature's  gentlemen.'  " 

The  remains  of  George  Stephenson  were  interred  in  Trinity 
Church,  Chesterfield,  where  a  simple  but  expressive  monument 
has  been*  erected  to  his  memory. 


THE   END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


JUN  1  0  195? 


Mfl^?519eS 

1    "ftifc 

MAIM 


MAR 


DEC 


FormL-9 
20m-]2,'39(33S«) 


9  1965 


13W 

.  O.OCT14 


3  1158  00245  6027 


